Title: Dear Slayer 3/4
Author: Elsa Frohman, elsa@frohman.net
Feedback: Yes, thank you
Spoilers: End of S6 and beginning of S7 AU (Since my
outcome of the African trials doesn't match ME's)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This fan fic should not be read while
operating heavy machinery
Summary: There was a time when correspondence was
an art.
Dear Buffy;
I don't know where to start.
I'm sorry if I seemed distant tonight. I know you wanted to
talk when I came over to see Red, and I didn't give you a
chance.
Sorry. I'm not ready to talk about this face to face. There
are too many ways to say the wrong thing.
But let me cut straight to the heart of he matter. Do I still
love you? Yes, I do. There is no question in my heart
about that.
I went on my quest determined to break this cord that
binds me to you. It had become more than I could bear. I
thought that if I could get the chip out of my head, I would
be as I was before. I thought that if the leash were off, I
would be able to see you as just another slayer, or just
another human woman. I wouldn't feel the need to please
you. I wouldn't feel compelled to change myself to be
acceptable to you.
It didn't happen that way. What I got was more than I
thought I wanted and less. I'm not sure why the demon
made me into what I am now. I don't know precisely what
advantage there is to having this beating heart -- other
than no longer needing to feed on blood to survive. But
the one thing I thought I wanted most -- to rid myself of my
love for you, I did not get. I found that without my chip, my
feelings for you had not changed in the slightest.
The chip made me stop doing what I had been doing. It
set my feet on a different path. It didn't make me love you,
and losing it didn't mean I stopped wanting to be the sort
of person you could love.
But none of that matters if my longing for you means that
we would return to the way things were. I'm not going
there again; not for you, not for anyone or anything. I find I
can live with wanting you and not having you. It's not
paradise, but these days, as we seem to be becoming
friends, there is enough satisfaction in that for me to
survive on. Another round of what happened between us
before and I am certain I will be destroyed.
So let me ask you the question that means the most to
me. What has changed? Why would it be different now
than it was then?
Awaiting your reply,
S.
PS: I really was glad to see Willow improving. She's got a
way to go, yet, but it does look like there is hope.
-------------
Dear Spike;
What's different? Everything, as far as I can see. You've
changed. I've changed.
Is that what you're asking? I would have thought you could
have seen the change in me. I'm not wallowing in my
misery any more. I'm taking responsibility for what I do
and what I've done. You once told me I should get off the
hero trip and just live. I think I'm doing that now.
Is that what you wanted to know?
Sincerely,
B.
-------------
Dear Buffy;
Did you give Harris my address? I got a letter from him in
today's post. Nothing threatening -- on the surface. He just
says he wants to talk to me. Any idea what this is about?
To respond to your last letter. No, that's not what I was
asking. I can see that you've overcome the state you were
in. And I am very happy to see that you're happier now,
and more than that, that you're living again.
But that has little or nothing to do with me. You quite
clearly found yourself during my absence. I wish I could
have helped you do that. But the important thing is that
you did.
I'm asking what has changed between us. You once said
you would never lower yourself to be with me. You said I
was beneath you. Does a beating heart change that? If
so, why?
What has changed?
Your humble servant,
S.
PS: Almost forgot. Two bodies moved through the morgue
last night that I think we're going to be seeing again.
Sawyer, Allen, Sunny Rest Cemetery; Boyd, Susan, Holy
Angels Cemetery. I'll get Sunny Rest, you get Holy
Angels.
------------
Dear Spike;
Are you asking whether I see you differently? Of course I
do. It's obvious that you're not evil any more.
As for Xander, no, I didn't give him your address. I asked
him, and he admitted he took it off an envelope he found
here, though. I don't know what he wants. He didn't want
to talk about it with me. But I don't think he means any
harm. I suppose I could be wrong, but unless he's got a
crossbow, you can handle him pretty easy. So, I don't
think you need worry.
Love,
B.
PS: Dusted mine at Holy Angels. Did you get yours?
-------------
Dear Buffy;
Obvious? I'm sorry. I don't see why it's obvious that I'm no
longer evil. Beyond not trying to sleep with you, I don't see
how my behavior now is significantly different from before
I went to Africa. Does a job and a flat make that much
difference?
I'm meeting Harris tonight at the bar in the Bronze. I have
to admit I'm curious.
Yours truly,
S.
PS: Have I ever failed? Sunny Rest is once more vamp
free.
PPS: Another mystery gift today. Now they're not coming
by post. This one was left outside my door. It was a piece
of gold jewelry. I can't think of who would be doing this.
-------------
Dear Spike;
How did it go with Xander? Still not sure what he had on
his mind. I'm hoping he wanted to make up. He's been
really quiet with the anti-demon talk since Dawn's
birthday. I've been hoping he's rethought his prejudices.
Not much time to write this morning. I need to stop by the
temp agency before work. I think I'm going to need to hire
someone to sit with Willow while I'm working and Dawn is
at school. When I got home yesterday, she was in the
kitchen trying to bake cookies. Unfortunately, she tends to
forget what she's doing in the middle of things, and it took
quite a while to clean the charred mess off the cookie
sheets. And she got very upset and ended up all weepy
when I told her not to try to use the oven. She doesn't
know why she wants to bake cookies -- just that she
thinks she needs to do it. I worry about her being here by
herself.
Until I can find someone (hope it doesn't cost an arm and
a leg) Jonathan is going to stay with her. But he really
needs to be out looking for a job, so I don't want to rely on
him for too long.
About your secret admirer: Could it be someone from the
morgue? Could one of the women there have a crush?
As for your last note: I'm sorry. I'm confused. I get the
impression you are offended that I don't think you're evil
anymore. I really thought you'd given up on the Big Bad
thing. If I've offended you, I'm sorry. But I don't
understand.
Puzzled,
B.
-----------
Dear Slayer;
Offended isn't the word I would choose. I'm disappointed. I
thought you'd finally figured it out. I guess not.
If Jonathan has any interviews he needs to go to, I'd be
willing to take a shift looking after Red. Have him call the
morgue and leave a message if he wants me to come
relieve him.
Yours truly,
S.
PS: You were right. Harris wanted to make up. I put up
with him as long as I could stand it. He bent my ear for
three bloody hours. Not sure what he was on about,
though. Sort of tuned him out after a bit. Would you mind
terribly if I did something to make him hate me again? I'd
rather have holes drilled in my skull than spend another
night listening to him blubber into his beer. At least he was
buying.
----------
Dear Spike;
If there is something specific you want me to say or do,
why not give me a clue? I'm trying, I really am, but I'm not
sure what you're looking for.
Jonathan says thanks. He's got an interview Thursday.
He'd be grateful if you came by.
I checked out getting a helper -- but I just can't afford it.
I'm doing better now than the DoomedMeat Palace, but
not that well. If I hired an LPN to sit with Willow, I'd be
paying her more than half what I earn, and then I'd be
missing mortgage payments again. Can't afford to go
there.
Don't know what I'm going to do if Jonathan gets a job.
Penuriously yours,
B.
----------
Dear Buffy;
I know you're trying. But I can't help but feel you still don't
get it.
I made a conscious decision to turn away from evil, to be
good -- for you -- some two years ago. But for some
reason, nothing I did before I came back from Africa
seems to count.
I don't see why what I do now is good enough for you, but
it wasn't then.
Regards,
S.
---------
Dear Spike;
But it is different now. You're steady -- more so than I
would ever have believed possible. I'm not afraid any
more that I'll find a clutch of demon eggs in your bedroom.
By the way, are the gifts still coming?
Yours truly,
B.
----------
Dear Buffy;
The bloody demon eggs again! I'm going to be carrying
that around for the rest of my life, am I?
I admit I've made mistakes. After more than a century as a
vampire, I didn't really know how to go about being good
when I made my choice. And once or twice, I got
frustrated and slipped off the straight and narrow. But you
don't even know about that incident. You just keep zeroing
in on the eggs.
The frigging eggs were a mistake, but not the way you
think.
You might have looked a little harder, love. You might
have been surprised.
Sincerely,
S.
PS: Yes, still getting the gifts. Do you know something?
-----------
Dear Spike;
What am I supposed to think about the eggs? They could
have been used to kill hundreds of people. Did you ever
give that a moment's thought? Are you going to tell me
that you were only doing it for me? You have some
excuse for dealing weapons of mass destruction?
Something that makes it OK?
As for the gifts, unfortunately, we think we know where
they're coming from. I mentioned it to Jonathan, and from
the look in his face, I knew right then that he knew
something. Took a bit of prying to get it out of him though
-- after everything he still feels some loyalty to Andrew.
They were friends for a long time. Feels sorry for him,
mostly.
Yes, we're pretty sure it's Andrew. After Jonathan came
clean, we went over to Andrew's (he's staying with his
aunt). He didn't want to let us into his room, but Jonathan
insisted (he can be quite forceful when he puts his mind to
it). It was creepy. There were pictures of you plastered all
over the walls. He's been keeping tabs on you. Taking
pictures with a telephoto lens, keeping a diary of where
you go and what you do.
We put the fear into him -- explained to him about chips
that aren't there anymore. Suggested that continuing
might not be good for his health. But I'm not sure he gets
it.
Jonathan is going to come over and sweep your place for
surveillance devices.
Sorry, I'm sure this isn't the best news you've had this
week.
B.
--------
Dear Slayer;
When it would have made a difference, you wouldn't let
me explain about the eggs. Now, it's not going to change
anything.
But let me give you a clue. I've enclosed here a photocopy
of the page from the Encyclopaedia of Uncommon
Demons and Dangerous Creatures that deals with Suvolte
and their reproductive cycle. Your inflatable soldier boy
wouldn't know a Suvolte egg if it dropped out of his arse.
It ought to raise some new questions for you.
Andrew -- excuse me if I say "ewww" here. Unfortunately,
my current status on the "evil/not evil" continuum robs me
of the option of tearing his head off and drinking from his
brain stem. Have to think of a more socially acceptable
way to discourage him.
I bet you're laughing up your sleeve now. I suppose what
goes around, comes around. Any tips?
Tell Jonathan thanks for the electronic sweep.
Sincerely,
S.
---------
Dear Spike;
I don't know what to say. I wish you'd made me listen.
Does this mean the real eggs made their way into the
hands of foreign powers? Were there any real Suvolte
eggs? What did Riley and I destroy in your crypt?
I don't understand. Maybe it doesn't matter now -- I guess
it really doesn't. But I still want to know what really
happened. Was Riley lying?
As for Andrew, I'm afraid I don't know what to tell you. My
own strategy for dealing with a stalker proved ineffective.
You stopped when you stopped yourself. I don't know how
we get Andrew to want to stop himself.
Embarrassed,
B.
----------
Dear Buffy;
Making you listen is the one task that has consistently
proved beyond my capabilities.
To answer your questions. 1. Were there any real Suvolte
eggs? Yes. 2. Did they make their way into the hands of
foreign powers? No. 3. What did you destroy in my crypt?
I think they were Domashna Klalec -- not certain -- I didn't
get that good a look at them before you and Sergeant
Stupid went all explosive. If that's what they were, it's just
as well that you blew up the place. Nasty buggers -- not
really lethal, but they do leave a really itchy welt when
they bite. Harder than hell to get rid of them once they've
infested a place. 4. Was Riley lying? Don't know, you'd
have to ask him that. I think he was played, though -- just
like you, just like me.
What happened? That takes a little explaining. Egg laying
demons take protecting their clutches very seriously.
There are nasties out there that think demon eggs are a
tasty treat. But for the demon who laid them those aren't
future omlettes -- they're children.
For an egg-laying female, there is a often period of
vulnerability when she needs to feed after laying, when
the eggs are in grave danger if she doesn't have a mate to
protect them. There are a number of species of egg-layers
that aren't monogamous, that generally use fostering to
ensure the survival of the offspring during that vulnerable
period.
I've fostered a lot of egg clutches. It was a way to pick up
some money. The way it works is this: The fosterer has a
secure location. He leaves the female there (they
generally like a bit of privacy) and she drops the eggs.
Then she leaves, and he stays with them for a day or two
while she feeds and regains her strength.
I usually deal directly with the female, but in this case, a
fellow approached me at Willy's and asked if I was
available for a rush job. He said the female was ready to
drop within the hour, and she didn't have a fosterer. So I
agreed to take her on short notice -- for a little extra
money.
I was waiting for her to finish laying when you came in. (I
think the timing here is significant.) I knew there were
eggs below, but I hadn't seen the female who dropped
them, and I didn't know what kind they were. Then, just a
couple hours later, Captain Cretin shows up with his
accusations and lo and behold, there are eggs in my
crypt. I think that's just a little too much coincidence to
swallow.
Pretty sure this "Doctor" bloke is the one who talked me
into fostering a clutch of eggs without seeing the female.
He creates a diversion (he must have known how little
Major Moron knew about Suvolte) and gets rid of the
posse on his tail (Lieutenant Lackbrain helicopters out of
town thinking he's saved the day) and goes ahead with his
scheme.
Anyone with more than half a dozen brain cells looking for
a clutch of Suvolte eggs would be looking for place with
refrigeration. So, after you left, I started checking butcher
shops and restaurants. (Unlike Colonel Crackhead, I know
what a Suvolte egg looks like.) I found them in the freezer
at Willy's. He swears he didn't know what they were, but
you never know with Willy -- maybe he did, maybe he
didn't.
I destroyed them.
Never found the Doctor. I think he left town in a hurry once
he figured out I was on to him. Wouldn't be surprised if
Willy tipped him off.
If in the preceding paragraphs I seem a bit hacked off --
yeah. I am. I think I'd rather not see you for a couple of
days. I'll get over it. But this isn't a good time to try to talk
to me.
Your servant,
S.
------------
To be continued...
Author: Elsa Frohman, elsa@frohman.net
Feedback: Yes, thank you
Spoilers: End of S6 and beginning of S7 AU (Since my
outcome of the African trials doesn't match ME's)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This fan fic should not be read while
operating heavy machinery
Summary: There was a time when correspondence was
an art.
Dear Buffy;
I don't know where to start.
I'm sorry if I seemed distant tonight. I know you wanted to
talk when I came over to see Red, and I didn't give you a
chance.
Sorry. I'm not ready to talk about this face to face. There
are too many ways to say the wrong thing.
But let me cut straight to the heart of he matter. Do I still
love you? Yes, I do. There is no question in my heart
about that.
I went on my quest determined to break this cord that
binds me to you. It had become more than I could bear. I
thought that if I could get the chip out of my head, I would
be as I was before. I thought that if the leash were off, I
would be able to see you as just another slayer, or just
another human woman. I wouldn't feel the need to please
you. I wouldn't feel compelled to change myself to be
acceptable to you.
It didn't happen that way. What I got was more than I
thought I wanted and less. I'm not sure why the demon
made me into what I am now. I don't know precisely what
advantage there is to having this beating heart -- other
than no longer needing to feed on blood to survive. But
the one thing I thought I wanted most -- to rid myself of my
love for you, I did not get. I found that without my chip, my
feelings for you had not changed in the slightest.
The chip made me stop doing what I had been doing. It
set my feet on a different path. It didn't make me love you,
and losing it didn't mean I stopped wanting to be the sort
of person you could love.
But none of that matters if my longing for you means that
we would return to the way things were. I'm not going
there again; not for you, not for anyone or anything. I find I
can live with wanting you and not having you. It's not
paradise, but these days, as we seem to be becoming
friends, there is enough satisfaction in that for me to
survive on. Another round of what happened between us
before and I am certain I will be destroyed.
So let me ask you the question that means the most to
me. What has changed? Why would it be different now
than it was then?
Awaiting your reply,
S.
PS: I really was glad to see Willow improving. She's got a
way to go, yet, but it does look like there is hope.
-------------
Dear Spike;
What's different? Everything, as far as I can see. You've
changed. I've changed.
Is that what you're asking? I would have thought you could
have seen the change in me. I'm not wallowing in my
misery any more. I'm taking responsibility for what I do
and what I've done. You once told me I should get off the
hero trip and just live. I think I'm doing that now.
Is that what you wanted to know?
Sincerely,
B.
-------------
Dear Buffy;
Did you give Harris my address? I got a letter from him in
today's post. Nothing threatening -- on the surface. He just
says he wants to talk to me. Any idea what this is about?
To respond to your last letter. No, that's not what I was
asking. I can see that you've overcome the state you were
in. And I am very happy to see that you're happier now,
and more than that, that you're living again.
But that has little or nothing to do with me. You quite
clearly found yourself during my absence. I wish I could
have helped you do that. But the important thing is that
you did.
I'm asking what has changed between us. You once said
you would never lower yourself to be with me. You said I
was beneath you. Does a beating heart change that? If
so, why?
What has changed?
Your humble servant,
S.
PS: Almost forgot. Two bodies moved through the morgue
last night that I think we're going to be seeing again.
Sawyer, Allen, Sunny Rest Cemetery; Boyd, Susan, Holy
Angels Cemetery. I'll get Sunny Rest, you get Holy
Angels.
------------
Dear Spike;
Are you asking whether I see you differently? Of course I
do. It's obvious that you're not evil any more.
As for Xander, no, I didn't give him your address. I asked
him, and he admitted he took it off an envelope he found
here, though. I don't know what he wants. He didn't want
to talk about it with me. But I don't think he means any
harm. I suppose I could be wrong, but unless he's got a
crossbow, you can handle him pretty easy. So, I don't
think you need worry.
Love,
B.
PS: Dusted mine at Holy Angels. Did you get yours?
-------------
Dear Buffy;
Obvious? I'm sorry. I don't see why it's obvious that I'm no
longer evil. Beyond not trying to sleep with you, I don't see
how my behavior now is significantly different from before
I went to Africa. Does a job and a flat make that much
difference?
I'm meeting Harris tonight at the bar in the Bronze. I have
to admit I'm curious.
Yours truly,
S.
PS: Have I ever failed? Sunny Rest is once more vamp
free.
PPS: Another mystery gift today. Now they're not coming
by post. This one was left outside my door. It was a piece
of gold jewelry. I can't think of who would be doing this.
-------------
Dear Spike;
How did it go with Xander? Still not sure what he had on
his mind. I'm hoping he wanted to make up. He's been
really quiet with the anti-demon talk since Dawn's
birthday. I've been hoping he's rethought his prejudices.
Not much time to write this morning. I need to stop by the
temp agency before work. I think I'm going to need to hire
someone to sit with Willow while I'm working and Dawn is
at school. When I got home yesterday, she was in the
kitchen trying to bake cookies. Unfortunately, she tends to
forget what she's doing in the middle of things, and it took
quite a while to clean the charred mess off the cookie
sheets. And she got very upset and ended up all weepy
when I told her not to try to use the oven. She doesn't
know why she wants to bake cookies -- just that she
thinks she needs to do it. I worry about her being here by
herself.
Until I can find someone (hope it doesn't cost an arm and
a leg) Jonathan is going to stay with her. But he really
needs to be out looking for a job, so I don't want to rely on
him for too long.
About your secret admirer: Could it be someone from the
morgue? Could one of the women there have a crush?
As for your last note: I'm sorry. I'm confused. I get the
impression you are offended that I don't think you're evil
anymore. I really thought you'd given up on the Big Bad
thing. If I've offended you, I'm sorry. But I don't
understand.
Puzzled,
B.
-----------
Dear Slayer;
Offended isn't the word I would choose. I'm disappointed. I
thought you'd finally figured it out. I guess not.
If Jonathan has any interviews he needs to go to, I'd be
willing to take a shift looking after Red. Have him call the
morgue and leave a message if he wants me to come
relieve him.
Yours truly,
S.
PS: You were right. Harris wanted to make up. I put up
with him as long as I could stand it. He bent my ear for
three bloody hours. Not sure what he was on about,
though. Sort of tuned him out after a bit. Would you mind
terribly if I did something to make him hate me again? I'd
rather have holes drilled in my skull than spend another
night listening to him blubber into his beer. At least he was
buying.
----------
Dear Spike;
If there is something specific you want me to say or do,
why not give me a clue? I'm trying, I really am, but I'm not
sure what you're looking for.
Jonathan says thanks. He's got an interview Thursday.
He'd be grateful if you came by.
I checked out getting a helper -- but I just can't afford it.
I'm doing better now than the DoomedMeat Palace, but
not that well. If I hired an LPN to sit with Willow, I'd be
paying her more than half what I earn, and then I'd be
missing mortgage payments again. Can't afford to go
there.
Don't know what I'm going to do if Jonathan gets a job.
Penuriously yours,
B.
----------
Dear Buffy;
I know you're trying. But I can't help but feel you still don't
get it.
I made a conscious decision to turn away from evil, to be
good -- for you -- some two years ago. But for some
reason, nothing I did before I came back from Africa
seems to count.
I don't see why what I do now is good enough for you, but
it wasn't then.
Regards,
S.
---------
Dear Spike;
But it is different now. You're steady -- more so than I
would ever have believed possible. I'm not afraid any
more that I'll find a clutch of demon eggs in your bedroom.
By the way, are the gifts still coming?
Yours truly,
B.
----------
Dear Buffy;
The bloody demon eggs again! I'm going to be carrying
that around for the rest of my life, am I?
I admit I've made mistakes. After more than a century as a
vampire, I didn't really know how to go about being good
when I made my choice. And once or twice, I got
frustrated and slipped off the straight and narrow. But you
don't even know about that incident. You just keep zeroing
in on the eggs.
The frigging eggs were a mistake, but not the way you
think.
You might have looked a little harder, love. You might
have been surprised.
Sincerely,
S.
PS: Yes, still getting the gifts. Do you know something?
-----------
Dear Spike;
What am I supposed to think about the eggs? They could
have been used to kill hundreds of people. Did you ever
give that a moment's thought? Are you going to tell me
that you were only doing it for me? You have some
excuse for dealing weapons of mass destruction?
Something that makes it OK?
As for the gifts, unfortunately, we think we know where
they're coming from. I mentioned it to Jonathan, and from
the look in his face, I knew right then that he knew
something. Took a bit of prying to get it out of him though
-- after everything he still feels some loyalty to Andrew.
They were friends for a long time. Feels sorry for him,
mostly.
Yes, we're pretty sure it's Andrew. After Jonathan came
clean, we went over to Andrew's (he's staying with his
aunt). He didn't want to let us into his room, but Jonathan
insisted (he can be quite forceful when he puts his mind to
it). It was creepy. There were pictures of you plastered all
over the walls. He's been keeping tabs on you. Taking
pictures with a telephoto lens, keeping a diary of where
you go and what you do.
We put the fear into him -- explained to him about chips
that aren't there anymore. Suggested that continuing
might not be good for his health. But I'm not sure he gets
it.
Jonathan is going to come over and sweep your place for
surveillance devices.
Sorry, I'm sure this isn't the best news you've had this
week.
B.
--------
Dear Slayer;
When it would have made a difference, you wouldn't let
me explain about the eggs. Now, it's not going to change
anything.
But let me give you a clue. I've enclosed here a photocopy
of the page from the Encyclopaedia of Uncommon
Demons and Dangerous Creatures that deals with Suvolte
and their reproductive cycle. Your inflatable soldier boy
wouldn't know a Suvolte egg if it dropped out of his arse.
It ought to raise some new questions for you.
Andrew -- excuse me if I say "ewww" here. Unfortunately,
my current status on the "evil/not evil" continuum robs me
of the option of tearing his head off and drinking from his
brain stem. Have to think of a more socially acceptable
way to discourage him.
I bet you're laughing up your sleeve now. I suppose what
goes around, comes around. Any tips?
Tell Jonathan thanks for the electronic sweep.
Sincerely,
S.
---------
Dear Spike;
I don't know what to say. I wish you'd made me listen.
Does this mean the real eggs made their way into the
hands of foreign powers? Were there any real Suvolte
eggs? What did Riley and I destroy in your crypt?
I don't understand. Maybe it doesn't matter now -- I guess
it really doesn't. But I still want to know what really
happened. Was Riley lying?
As for Andrew, I'm afraid I don't know what to tell you. My
own strategy for dealing with a stalker proved ineffective.
You stopped when you stopped yourself. I don't know how
we get Andrew to want to stop himself.
Embarrassed,
B.
----------
Dear Buffy;
Making you listen is the one task that has consistently
proved beyond my capabilities.
To answer your questions. 1. Were there any real Suvolte
eggs? Yes. 2. Did they make their way into the hands of
foreign powers? No. 3. What did you destroy in my crypt?
I think they were Domashna Klalec -- not certain -- I didn't
get that good a look at them before you and Sergeant
Stupid went all explosive. If that's what they were, it's just
as well that you blew up the place. Nasty buggers -- not
really lethal, but they do leave a really itchy welt when
they bite. Harder than hell to get rid of them once they've
infested a place. 4. Was Riley lying? Don't know, you'd
have to ask him that. I think he was played, though -- just
like you, just like me.
What happened? That takes a little explaining. Egg laying
demons take protecting their clutches very seriously.
There are nasties out there that think demon eggs are a
tasty treat. But for the demon who laid them those aren't
future omlettes -- they're children.
For an egg-laying female, there is a often period of
vulnerability when she needs to feed after laying, when
the eggs are in grave danger if she doesn't have a mate to
protect them. There are a number of species of egg-layers
that aren't monogamous, that generally use fostering to
ensure the survival of the offspring during that vulnerable
period.
I've fostered a lot of egg clutches. It was a way to pick up
some money. The way it works is this: The fosterer has a
secure location. He leaves the female there (they
generally like a bit of privacy) and she drops the eggs.
Then she leaves, and he stays with them for a day or two
while she feeds and regains her strength.
I usually deal directly with the female, but in this case, a
fellow approached me at Willy's and asked if I was
available for a rush job. He said the female was ready to
drop within the hour, and she didn't have a fosterer. So I
agreed to take her on short notice -- for a little extra
money.
I was waiting for her to finish laying when you came in. (I
think the timing here is significant.) I knew there were
eggs below, but I hadn't seen the female who dropped
them, and I didn't know what kind they were. Then, just a
couple hours later, Captain Cretin shows up with his
accusations and lo and behold, there are eggs in my
crypt. I think that's just a little too much coincidence to
swallow.
Pretty sure this "Doctor" bloke is the one who talked me
into fostering a clutch of eggs without seeing the female.
He creates a diversion (he must have known how little
Major Moron knew about Suvolte) and gets rid of the
posse on his tail (Lieutenant Lackbrain helicopters out of
town thinking he's saved the day) and goes ahead with his
scheme.
Anyone with more than half a dozen brain cells looking for
a clutch of Suvolte eggs would be looking for place with
refrigeration. So, after you left, I started checking butcher
shops and restaurants. (Unlike Colonel Crackhead, I know
what a Suvolte egg looks like.) I found them in the freezer
at Willy's. He swears he didn't know what they were, but
you never know with Willy -- maybe he did, maybe he
didn't.
I destroyed them.
Never found the Doctor. I think he left town in a hurry once
he figured out I was on to him. Wouldn't be surprised if
Willy tipped him off.
If in the preceding paragraphs I seem a bit hacked off --
yeah. I am. I think I'd rather not see you for a couple of
days. I'll get over it. But this isn't a good time to try to talk
to me.
Your servant,
S.
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To be continued...