My thanks to all of you still reading and, much to my delight, reviewing
this story. Feedback is such a treasured commodity…
As ever, recognition of the cherished betas is a must, so thanks go to Specks (who's still standing after a bitter brawl with the PC and, somehow, still managed to beta the beast) and the lovely Ky (who patiently indulges even the most inane ramblings before gently prodding me to write something worthwhile and then helping me turn this story into that. *g*).
***
"Remind me again why I'm here," the tired brunette groaned, critically studying her manicure.
"Because you asked to come, Cordelia," Buffy sighed. She'd gotten less than three hours sleep the night before and she was *not* in the mood to deal with her friend's griping.
"Oh. Right," Cordelia yawned and checked her watch, grimacing when she noted it wasn't even nine am. "I should still be in bed. What was I thinking?"
Raising an eyebrow, Buffy looked over at the brunette, "I was just asking myself that same question…" Ignoring the glare directed her way; she grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her quickly towards the museum, scanning the building for an acceptable entryway. "C'mon… We have to find a way in."
"Can't we just use the door like normal people?" At Buffy's disbelieving stare, she continued defensively, "What? It's after eight. It's open. Other people are going in…" She gestured at a noisy group of students making their way up the stairs, "I mean, unless you want to make everything harder than it has to be…"
"Fine," Buffy interrupted, adding sarcastically, "We'll go in the front. Happy now?"
"Hey! A cranky Slayer is nobody's friend, Buffy…"
"You know what?" Whirling to face the other girl, Buffy spat, "Bite me, Cordelia!" As soon as the harsh words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Taking a good look at her friend for the first time that morning, she realized that Cordelia hadn't gotten any more sleep than she had. As a Slayer, Buffy was used to long days, longer nights, and little sleep, but Cordy… Well, if the dark circles under her eyes and the never-ending yawns were any indication, Cordy was feeling the effects of their late night and early morning; despite her obvious exhaustion, she'd still offered to come along to the museum.
Softening her stance, she apologized, "Look, Cordy… I, uh… I mean, we had a long, lousy night and I-I'm taking it out on you when you were nice enough to get up and drive me here. I'm sorry."
Quirking an eyebrow at the blonde, Cordelia clarified, "Wait. Did you just apologize?"
"Yeah," Buffy sighed, already regretting the apology.
"Whoa. It really must be the end of the world," Cordelia smirked. Smiling, she gave Buffy a quick hug. "It's okay..."
"Thanks for understanding, Cordy."
"Oh, totally. I mean, I'd be crabby too if I had your social…"
"STOP!" Buffy cried, clapping her hands over her ears. "Ahh… I mean it! Leave it at 'thanks,' okay? No more," she was gesturing wildly with her tanned arms as Cordelia opened her mouth to continue.
The slayer begged shamelessly "Please? Please, just let it go, Cordy…"
"Fine, little Miss Melodrama. I was just going to say how much it sucks that you finally meet a 'nice' guy and it turns out he's married."
"Yeah, well, in my book that whole married thing pretty much keeps him out of the 'nice' guy category…" Buffy stated, walking into the museum behind Cordelia.
"True, I guess. Uh, do we know what we're looking for?"
"Well, clues…" Buffy answered, scanning the room. "I don't see anything that screams 'Demon,' though."
"Yeah, nothing slimy in sight." The brunette grinned at Buffy's groan, "Oh, come on! You know you were thinking it!"
Shaking her head, Buffy began to wander through the spacious lobby of the museum, her slim heels clicking on the marble floor as Cordelia trailed close behind. Making their way towards the back of the building, Buffy noticed a large doorway, partially hidden behind a massive Japanese screen. Squinting, she made out yellow police tape on the doorframe.
"Bingo. This way, Cordy." Leading the way, Buffy glanced around discreetly; trying to make sure no one was paying attention to them, before slipping behind the screen to open the door. Easing inside, she waited for Cordelia to follow before silently shutting the door.
***
"Hey, move your ass!"
"Look, if you're in such a hurry, you should have just come without me. I wanted to stay at the hospital anyway," Angel groused but quickened his pace to keep up with Gunn as they strode through the museum's expansive lobby.
"I already told you, man, I was under strict orders to get you out of there," Gunn shook his head, slowing his steps to allow Angel to catch up.
"Oh yeah? Well next time, you can just tell Walsh to stick it up…"
"Wasn't Walsh." Delighting in his friend's confused reaction, Gunn grinned as he continued, "The doctors told me to get you the hell out of there. All that glaring was scarin' the nurses. Besides, Graham's there right now… When Doyle wakes up, he'll give us a call."
Sighing, Angel fell into step beside Gunn. He knew he should be at the hospital right now but he didn't want to argue the point with Gunn… again. Since he'd woken up an hour and a half ago, they'd discussed it four times; he didn't feel up to round five. He still wasn't sure how he'd been maneuvered out of the ICU, but before he knew it, he'd found himself back in his bathroom at Lowell House. Groggily, he'd stepped into the steamy shower and leaned heavily against the wall, allowing the cascade of scalding water to sluice down his tired body as he thought about the events of the night before. Images of the Bronze, the blonde, and Doyle's bloody body flashed through his mind as the water did its work… waking him up; invigorating him. Lathering, he made a decision to dress and return to the hospital, determined to sit with Doyle until the Irishman regained consciousness. Less than half an hour later, he'd been following Gunn up the stairs of the Sunnydale museum, wondering how his well-formed plan had gone to hell so quickly.
"Since we've tapped in the PD's database, I don't see the point of this little trip," he complained as they hurried toward the back of the building. Making their way around the gleaming display cases and avante' garde brass sculptures that littered the capacious room, both men cautiously scrutinized their surroundings, alert for any signs of danger. They passed a dazzling display of Japanese paintings before coming to a sudden stop as they noticed two women slipping behind a large Shoji. The translucent, wood lattice panels highlighted their shapes as they eased open a door and disappeared.
"Did you see who that was," Gunn demanded, turning to face Angel.
Even without the slow flush that was heating his body, Angel knew he'd recognize her anywhere. That tiny figure, the flash of long, golden hair…
Meeting Gunn's gaze, he nodded his affirmation, "Buffy. And Cordelia."
"I knew it! I knew there was something off about her," Gunn muttered, moving towards the door intent on confronting the little blonde. He'd only gone a step when he felt Angel's iron grip on his arm, pulling him back. Looking into Angel's face, he saw the expression he recognized from many nightly missions. Angel was in full 'Initiative Mode' and, friendship or no, he'd be giving the orders.
"Whatever you're thinking, Gunn, stop. You can't just go in and publicly accuse two civilians."
"I wasn't gonna do it in public, Angel. I was gonna do my accusing behind closed doors. That closed door right there," he clarified, pointing at the entryway behind the screen.
"Gunn…" Angel's tone was heavy, warning packed into the single word.
"Look, she was there when Doyle got hurt…"
"We were all there when Doyle got hurt," Angel cut in defensively.
"Yeah, but she found him! She had his blood on her *and* she had vamp dust all over her…" He looked at Angel, making sure his words were sinking in, "I know you and Doyle got a thing for this chick, but she knows *something* and I'm gonna find out what it is."
"Okay, fine. Maybe she *is* hiding something…" Angel ignored Gunn's snort at his phrasing and continued on, "but we have to be careful. If you go in there and accuse her, you either blow our cover to a bunch of civilians or you blow our cover to someone who's involved with this incident. Let's just follow them and play it cool. If they don't tell us anything, we let them go and have them checked out, okay? We can pull their files once we leave here."
Following Angel behind the screen, Gunn grumbled, "My way's more fun."
Stopping at the door, Angel shot his friend an amused smirk before gesturing for silence and slowly opening it. Motioning for Gunn to follow, he stole inside and watched as his friend quietly shut the door behind them. Content to wait until they either learned something incriminating or were discovered, they studied the girls from their place by the entrance.
***
Surveying the room, both girls winced at the destruction before them. Near the edge of the devastation, a broken sign heralded the exhibit as one of 'rare artifacts from the native tribes of the Americas.' Beyond the sign, the floor was littered with glass from the overturned display cases and the artifacts lay scattered and broken amid the shards. In the center of the chaos, a large print was visible on the floor.
"Is that a footprint? Uh, did Xander mention that these things have six inch claws on their feet," Cordelia asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she studied the print. Cocking her head to the side, she examined further, "God, these things have *huge* feet! I thought Xander had big feet, but wow! This is like two feet long. And where did this mud come from," she asked, poking at the crusty substance
"Uh, I don't think that's mud…"
"What? Of course it's mud. What else would it be?"
Gingerly holding up a long, jagged glass shard covered in the same brown substance, Buffy answered softly, "I think it's blood."
"Oh! Eww!" Horrified, Cordelia jumped up, frantically wiping her hands on the front of her blue jeans before rummaging through her purse. "I knew I carried hand sanitizer for a reason!" Pulling out the tiny bottle of Purell, she poured a huge dollop on her palm and began rubbing her hands together vigorously.
Feigning sympathy, Buffy shook her head, trying to hide her smirk. Concentrating on her task, she continued to search through the ruins of the exhibit. Trying to determine what, if anything had been stolen, she carefully matched up artifacts with the placards that identified them. After a few minutes of obsessive disinfection, Cordelia decided to lend a hand. Slowly eliminating items, they ended up with only one card that didn't have a matching artifact.
"Well, I guess now we know what they took," Buffy noted, casting another glance around the room to be sure they hadn't missed anything.
"Huh." Peering over the tiny blonde's shoulder, Cordelia looked at the placard. "What is it? It looks like a piece of wood with two bears carved at either end…" At Buffy's shrug, Cordelia snatched the card from her hand and began reading it aloud, "It says it's the 'coletor des almas,' and, eww. It's not made of wood, it's made of bone. God, could these people have been any more disgusting? Who makes something out of bone, anyway?"
"That is pretty whack…"
Both girls jumped at the unexpected sound and spun to face its source, Cordelia quickly hiding the index card behind her back as she turned.
"So much for slayer senses," she hissed quietly, elbowing Buffy and trying to pass her the card. Buffy shot her a pointed glare and snatched it. Stuffing it into her back pocket, she tried to think of an explanation to satisfy whoever had walked in on them. When she saw who it was, she sighed inwardly.
Leaning back against the door, his arms crossed in a show of nonchalance despite watching them intently, was Gunn. A few feet to his left, hands in his pockets and studying the fallen sign, stood Angel.
"You ladies are here early," Gunn stated, still leaning against the door, effectively blocking the only viable exit.
***
TBC…
Author's Note: I know it's been longer than usual between updates… Sorry. Truly. I was under the weather most of the week and didn't do much other than sleep. I am hoping to keep with the schedule of (at least) one update a week until this is finished.
1 And it will be finished…
In the meantime, if you'd rather not have to keep checking to see if it's been updated, zap me an email and let me know you'd like to be put on the update list (thanks to SJ and Deke for the suggestion, btw).
As ever, recognition of the cherished betas is a must, so thanks go to Specks (who's still standing after a bitter brawl with the PC and, somehow, still managed to beta the beast) and the lovely Ky (who patiently indulges even the most inane ramblings before gently prodding me to write something worthwhile and then helping me turn this story into that. *g*).
***
"Remind me again why I'm here," the tired brunette groaned, critically studying her manicure.
"Because you asked to come, Cordelia," Buffy sighed. She'd gotten less than three hours sleep the night before and she was *not* in the mood to deal with her friend's griping.
"Oh. Right," Cordelia yawned and checked her watch, grimacing when she noted it wasn't even nine am. "I should still be in bed. What was I thinking?"
Raising an eyebrow, Buffy looked over at the brunette, "I was just asking myself that same question…" Ignoring the glare directed her way; she grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her quickly towards the museum, scanning the building for an acceptable entryway. "C'mon… We have to find a way in."
"Can't we just use the door like normal people?" At Buffy's disbelieving stare, she continued defensively, "What? It's after eight. It's open. Other people are going in…" She gestured at a noisy group of students making their way up the stairs, "I mean, unless you want to make everything harder than it has to be…"
"Fine," Buffy interrupted, adding sarcastically, "We'll go in the front. Happy now?"
"Hey! A cranky Slayer is nobody's friend, Buffy…"
"You know what?" Whirling to face the other girl, Buffy spat, "Bite me, Cordelia!" As soon as the harsh words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Taking a good look at her friend for the first time that morning, she realized that Cordelia hadn't gotten any more sleep than she had. As a Slayer, Buffy was used to long days, longer nights, and little sleep, but Cordy… Well, if the dark circles under her eyes and the never-ending yawns were any indication, Cordy was feeling the effects of their late night and early morning; despite her obvious exhaustion, she'd still offered to come along to the museum.
Softening her stance, she apologized, "Look, Cordy… I, uh… I mean, we had a long, lousy night and I-I'm taking it out on you when you were nice enough to get up and drive me here. I'm sorry."
Quirking an eyebrow at the blonde, Cordelia clarified, "Wait. Did you just apologize?"
"Yeah," Buffy sighed, already regretting the apology.
"Whoa. It really must be the end of the world," Cordelia smirked. Smiling, she gave Buffy a quick hug. "It's okay..."
"Thanks for understanding, Cordy."
"Oh, totally. I mean, I'd be crabby too if I had your social…"
"STOP!" Buffy cried, clapping her hands over her ears. "Ahh… I mean it! Leave it at 'thanks,' okay? No more," she was gesturing wildly with her tanned arms as Cordelia opened her mouth to continue.
The slayer begged shamelessly "Please? Please, just let it go, Cordy…"
"Fine, little Miss Melodrama. I was just going to say how much it sucks that you finally meet a 'nice' guy and it turns out he's married."
"Yeah, well, in my book that whole married thing pretty much keeps him out of the 'nice' guy category…" Buffy stated, walking into the museum behind Cordelia.
"True, I guess. Uh, do we know what we're looking for?"
"Well, clues…" Buffy answered, scanning the room. "I don't see anything that screams 'Demon,' though."
"Yeah, nothing slimy in sight." The brunette grinned at Buffy's groan, "Oh, come on! You know you were thinking it!"
Shaking her head, Buffy began to wander through the spacious lobby of the museum, her slim heels clicking on the marble floor as Cordelia trailed close behind. Making their way towards the back of the building, Buffy noticed a large doorway, partially hidden behind a massive Japanese screen. Squinting, she made out yellow police tape on the doorframe.
"Bingo. This way, Cordy." Leading the way, Buffy glanced around discreetly; trying to make sure no one was paying attention to them, before slipping behind the screen to open the door. Easing inside, she waited for Cordelia to follow before silently shutting the door.
***
"Hey, move your ass!"
"Look, if you're in such a hurry, you should have just come without me. I wanted to stay at the hospital anyway," Angel groused but quickened his pace to keep up with Gunn as they strode through the museum's expansive lobby.
"I already told you, man, I was under strict orders to get you out of there," Gunn shook his head, slowing his steps to allow Angel to catch up.
"Oh yeah? Well next time, you can just tell Walsh to stick it up…"
"Wasn't Walsh." Delighting in his friend's confused reaction, Gunn grinned as he continued, "The doctors told me to get you the hell out of there. All that glaring was scarin' the nurses. Besides, Graham's there right now… When Doyle wakes up, he'll give us a call."
Sighing, Angel fell into step beside Gunn. He knew he should be at the hospital right now but he didn't want to argue the point with Gunn… again. Since he'd woken up an hour and a half ago, they'd discussed it four times; he didn't feel up to round five. He still wasn't sure how he'd been maneuvered out of the ICU, but before he knew it, he'd found himself back in his bathroom at Lowell House. Groggily, he'd stepped into the steamy shower and leaned heavily against the wall, allowing the cascade of scalding water to sluice down his tired body as he thought about the events of the night before. Images of the Bronze, the blonde, and Doyle's bloody body flashed through his mind as the water did its work… waking him up; invigorating him. Lathering, he made a decision to dress and return to the hospital, determined to sit with Doyle until the Irishman regained consciousness. Less than half an hour later, he'd been following Gunn up the stairs of the Sunnydale museum, wondering how his well-formed plan had gone to hell so quickly.
"Since we've tapped in the PD's database, I don't see the point of this little trip," he complained as they hurried toward the back of the building. Making their way around the gleaming display cases and avante' garde brass sculptures that littered the capacious room, both men cautiously scrutinized their surroundings, alert for any signs of danger. They passed a dazzling display of Japanese paintings before coming to a sudden stop as they noticed two women slipping behind a large Shoji. The translucent, wood lattice panels highlighted their shapes as they eased open a door and disappeared.
"Did you see who that was," Gunn demanded, turning to face Angel.
Even without the slow flush that was heating his body, Angel knew he'd recognize her anywhere. That tiny figure, the flash of long, golden hair…
Meeting Gunn's gaze, he nodded his affirmation, "Buffy. And Cordelia."
"I knew it! I knew there was something off about her," Gunn muttered, moving towards the door intent on confronting the little blonde. He'd only gone a step when he felt Angel's iron grip on his arm, pulling him back. Looking into Angel's face, he saw the expression he recognized from many nightly missions. Angel was in full 'Initiative Mode' and, friendship or no, he'd be giving the orders.
"Whatever you're thinking, Gunn, stop. You can't just go in and publicly accuse two civilians."
"I wasn't gonna do it in public, Angel. I was gonna do my accusing behind closed doors. That closed door right there," he clarified, pointing at the entryway behind the screen.
"Gunn…" Angel's tone was heavy, warning packed into the single word.
"Look, she was there when Doyle got hurt…"
"We were all there when Doyle got hurt," Angel cut in defensively.
"Yeah, but she found him! She had his blood on her *and* she had vamp dust all over her…" He looked at Angel, making sure his words were sinking in, "I know you and Doyle got a thing for this chick, but she knows *something* and I'm gonna find out what it is."
"Okay, fine. Maybe she *is* hiding something…" Angel ignored Gunn's snort at his phrasing and continued on, "but we have to be careful. If you go in there and accuse her, you either blow our cover to a bunch of civilians or you blow our cover to someone who's involved with this incident. Let's just follow them and play it cool. If they don't tell us anything, we let them go and have them checked out, okay? We can pull their files once we leave here."
Following Angel behind the screen, Gunn grumbled, "My way's more fun."
Stopping at the door, Angel shot his friend an amused smirk before gesturing for silence and slowly opening it. Motioning for Gunn to follow, he stole inside and watched as his friend quietly shut the door behind them. Content to wait until they either learned something incriminating or were discovered, they studied the girls from their place by the entrance.
***
Surveying the room, both girls winced at the destruction before them. Near the edge of the devastation, a broken sign heralded the exhibit as one of 'rare artifacts from the native tribes of the Americas.' Beyond the sign, the floor was littered with glass from the overturned display cases and the artifacts lay scattered and broken amid the shards. In the center of the chaos, a large print was visible on the floor.
"Is that a footprint? Uh, did Xander mention that these things have six inch claws on their feet," Cordelia asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she studied the print. Cocking her head to the side, she examined further, "God, these things have *huge* feet! I thought Xander had big feet, but wow! This is like two feet long. And where did this mud come from," she asked, poking at the crusty substance
"Uh, I don't think that's mud…"
"What? Of course it's mud. What else would it be?"
Gingerly holding up a long, jagged glass shard covered in the same brown substance, Buffy answered softly, "I think it's blood."
"Oh! Eww!" Horrified, Cordelia jumped up, frantically wiping her hands on the front of her blue jeans before rummaging through her purse. "I knew I carried hand sanitizer for a reason!" Pulling out the tiny bottle of Purell, she poured a huge dollop on her palm and began rubbing her hands together vigorously.
Feigning sympathy, Buffy shook her head, trying to hide her smirk. Concentrating on her task, she continued to search through the ruins of the exhibit. Trying to determine what, if anything had been stolen, she carefully matched up artifacts with the placards that identified them. After a few minutes of obsessive disinfection, Cordelia decided to lend a hand. Slowly eliminating items, they ended up with only one card that didn't have a matching artifact.
"Well, I guess now we know what they took," Buffy noted, casting another glance around the room to be sure they hadn't missed anything.
"Huh." Peering over the tiny blonde's shoulder, Cordelia looked at the placard. "What is it? It looks like a piece of wood with two bears carved at either end…" At Buffy's shrug, Cordelia snatched the card from her hand and began reading it aloud, "It says it's the 'coletor des almas,' and, eww. It's not made of wood, it's made of bone. God, could these people have been any more disgusting? Who makes something out of bone, anyway?"
"That is pretty whack…"
Both girls jumped at the unexpected sound and spun to face its source, Cordelia quickly hiding the index card behind her back as she turned.
"So much for slayer senses," she hissed quietly, elbowing Buffy and trying to pass her the card. Buffy shot her a pointed glare and snatched it. Stuffing it into her back pocket, she tried to think of an explanation to satisfy whoever had walked in on them. When she saw who it was, she sighed inwardly.
Leaning back against the door, his arms crossed in a show of nonchalance despite watching them intently, was Gunn. A few feet to his left, hands in his pockets and studying the fallen sign, stood Angel.
"You ladies are here early," Gunn stated, still leaning against the door, effectively blocking the only viable exit.
***
TBC…
Author's Note: I know it's been longer than usual between updates… Sorry. Truly. I was under the weather most of the week and didn't do much other than sleep. I am hoping to keep with the schedule of (at least) one update a week until this is finished.
1 And it will be finished…
In the meantime, if you'd rather not have to keep checking to see if it's been updated, zap me an email and let me know you'd like to be put on the update list (thanks to SJ and Deke for the suggestion, btw).