Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Death Awaits: chapter 7 - Willy's Place
I did not sleep well last night. I know I dreamt, but luckily the images of my dreams are not with me on this gorgeous Californian morning. Buffy has taken the day off classes again, and she, her tall boyfriend Riley, and I are going to Willy's. Giles and Willow are hard at work researching still, Willow tapping away on her laptop watched by her girlfriend, Tara. I met Tara after breakfast, a shy, slightly heavy girl with a pretty smile and adoration in her eyes when she looks at Willow. I liked her at once. Buffy explained that Tara and Willow met at a Wicca group at their university, and that Tara is in fact a very powerful witch. This should surprise me, but does not. Willow and Tara's magic is clearly an important element in the group dynamic surrounding the Slayer, and a useful one.
I am less sure about Riley. He seems pleasant enough, and Buffy proudly told me last night that he can fight - that I don't doubt, he's taller than I am - but he seems too ordinary to be with the Slayer. Bland might be the word. Of her other friends, Xander seems to be the only one without any special talent, but he is much more open and I think that perhaps Xander's humour helps keep them all together as much as Buffy's fighting or Willow's spells. Riley doesn't seem to add much at all, but Buffy is clearly besotted with her soldier and at the moment, as we stroll along the main street, I am feeling rather like a third cog.
Buffy drops Riley's hand as we brush through the awful beaded curtain and into Willy's bar. It smells metallically of blood and alcohol. There is a skinny man occupied in tidying up, sweeping the floor (a large pile of dust, broken glass and a smashed chair) with a melancholy expression on his face. The expression fills with panic as he sees Buffy.
"Not you as well."
"Hiya, Willy," the Slayer says. "Did you have a visit last night?"
Willy doesn't answer, instead looking past her to Riley and I. "What's he doin' here?" he demands, gesturing towards Riley. "And who's the other guy?"
"A friend," Buffy says, "and Riley's staying. Did you have a visit last night?"
Willy leans on his broom and stitches a conspiratorial expression onto his rodent-like face. "Might have done." Buffy takes a step forwards, and he nods. "Yeah, yeah. Your old flame."
"What did he say?"
"He killed a couple a' vamps." Willy prods at the dust with his broom. "Broke a glass. Used a chair as a stake. Said he was back in town and meant business." The barman pauses, and adds, "He didn't seem like, you know, Angel."
"That's because he's not," Buffy says. "He lost the soul."
"Shit," says Willy, which seems to be appropriate. "And those other vamps with him?"
Buffy counts off on her fingers. "Darla. Heard of her?"
Willy's face shows us he has.
"Someone called Luc something-or-other. And the other one. All bad news, Willy."
"So whadda I do?" Willy asks, spreading his hands dramatically and dropping the broom. A cloud of dust flies up in the air. "Not let them in?"
"I'd say that would be a bad idea," Riley says to the room at large.
"Just let me know what they're planning," Buffy says. "I'll do my best to protect you. And don't tell them what we're doing."
Willy snorts, and Buffy sighs and pulls out an envelope. "Hundred bucks, Willy. Don't talk to Angel."
"Sure thing," Willy grins, catching the envelope and looking inside greedily. Buffy shakes her head in despair, and we leave. The bright sunlight is blinding after the gloom of the bar, and I blink several times. Buffy is yawning.
"Gah. I need sleep."
"You shouldn't stay so late patrolling," Riley says in a concerned voice.
"We weren't late. I couldn't sleep," Buffy replies.
"I hope you're not taking this all too seriously," Riley says, taking her hand again. "I mean, yeah, he's not good news, but you've taken down some bad vamps in your time."
Buffy smiles sadly and shakes her head. "This is different, Riley."
He looks unconvinced, and I make a mental note to show him the files later on.
The Slayer pushes open the door of Giles's magic shop - a new acquisition, apparently. It's a large shop, full of curious occult items, musty books and a smell of incense and herbs. There are books open all over the round table by the cash desk, and Giles, Willow and Tara are deep in a discussion. We cross the floor and join them, and Willow looks up.
"Hi. How was Willy?"
"We bribed him," Buffy says. She glances at me. "Can you reclaim that, d'you think?"
"I can try," I answer.
"We've narrowed down the spells the Breton might have used," Willow says, pushing books in Buffy's direction. "Giles thinks it's the one with the silver stake, I think it's the one with the circles and the vessel-thing."
"The first is much simpler," Giles says, wearily, obviously repeating something he has said before. "I've read nothing which . which suggests that he is an experienced magician. Your spell is too complicated."
Willow makes a face at him.
"He seemed fairly intelligent," I say aloud, musing on the vampire I had met the night before. "And surely he'd know Latin to be able to say the spell?"
Willow looks grateful, and taps the book. "See?"
Giles takes off his glasses, and puts them on the table. "Perhaps you're right. But neither spell is reversible, in any case, so we are no better off."
Silence falls. Willow leafs through a book half-heartedly, and Buffy examines her fingernails.
The stillness is suddenly broken by the ring of my mobile phone, and I frown and pull it out. "Mike Fletcher."
"Mike. How's it going?" Quentin Travers. I make a 'be silent!' gesture to Giles and the others, and move to a corner.
"Well, they're here, sir," I say.
"Good, good," Travers says, and I think of retorting that no, it isn't good, and would he like to try killing off Angelus for me?
"There are four of them," I content myself in replying. "Angelus, Darla, the Breton, and another man. Young, black, I think."
Travers makes an interested noise and I can hear his pen scratching on paper. "Have you a plan?"
"No, sir, but I hope to discover where they're hiding out during the day, soon."
"And what about the Slayer?" Travers asks. "I hope you haven't been seen by her."
I grimace. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of her, sir. I'll do my best not to run into her."
"Excellent, Mike. Well, keep us updated."
"Yes, sir."
In England, Travers puts the phone down, and I disconnect mine.
"Council?" asks Giles, and I nod.
"Quentin Travers."
Buffy makes a face. "Nasty man," she says. "So you've not seen me?"
"Not at all," I smile. "God, I hate this whole situation. We should all be working with each other, with the Council's funds behind us, and an army of agents. Blow up wherever it is they're sleeping during the day, or something. Not trying to slay the Scourge of Europe, his sire, and two other vamps like this. It's madness."
"There, I am inclined to agree," Giles says reassuringly. "But we have little choice, and it won't be the first time we've beaten the odds. Now, let's find this spell, and perhaps we'll be a little closer."
All of us, even Riley, bend over the books again, and silence falls once more in the shop.
Death Awaits: chapter 7 - Willy's Place
I did not sleep well last night. I know I dreamt, but luckily the images of my dreams are not with me on this gorgeous Californian morning. Buffy has taken the day off classes again, and she, her tall boyfriend Riley, and I are going to Willy's. Giles and Willow are hard at work researching still, Willow tapping away on her laptop watched by her girlfriend, Tara. I met Tara after breakfast, a shy, slightly heavy girl with a pretty smile and adoration in her eyes when she looks at Willow. I liked her at once. Buffy explained that Tara and Willow met at a Wicca group at their university, and that Tara is in fact a very powerful witch. This should surprise me, but does not. Willow and Tara's magic is clearly an important element in the group dynamic surrounding the Slayer, and a useful one.
I am less sure about Riley. He seems pleasant enough, and Buffy proudly told me last night that he can fight - that I don't doubt, he's taller than I am - but he seems too ordinary to be with the Slayer. Bland might be the word. Of her other friends, Xander seems to be the only one without any special talent, but he is much more open and I think that perhaps Xander's humour helps keep them all together as much as Buffy's fighting or Willow's spells. Riley doesn't seem to add much at all, but Buffy is clearly besotted with her soldier and at the moment, as we stroll along the main street, I am feeling rather like a third cog.
Buffy drops Riley's hand as we brush through the awful beaded curtain and into Willy's bar. It smells metallically of blood and alcohol. There is a skinny man occupied in tidying up, sweeping the floor (a large pile of dust, broken glass and a smashed chair) with a melancholy expression on his face. The expression fills with panic as he sees Buffy.
"Not you as well."
"Hiya, Willy," the Slayer says. "Did you have a visit last night?"
Willy doesn't answer, instead looking past her to Riley and I. "What's he doin' here?" he demands, gesturing towards Riley. "And who's the other guy?"
"A friend," Buffy says, "and Riley's staying. Did you have a visit last night?"
Willy leans on his broom and stitches a conspiratorial expression onto his rodent-like face. "Might have done." Buffy takes a step forwards, and he nods. "Yeah, yeah. Your old flame."
"What did he say?"
"He killed a couple a' vamps." Willy prods at the dust with his broom. "Broke a glass. Used a chair as a stake. Said he was back in town and meant business." The barman pauses, and adds, "He didn't seem like, you know, Angel."
"That's because he's not," Buffy says. "He lost the soul."
"Shit," says Willy, which seems to be appropriate. "And those other vamps with him?"
Buffy counts off on her fingers. "Darla. Heard of her?"
Willy's face shows us he has.
"Someone called Luc something-or-other. And the other one. All bad news, Willy."
"So whadda I do?" Willy asks, spreading his hands dramatically and dropping the broom. A cloud of dust flies up in the air. "Not let them in?"
"I'd say that would be a bad idea," Riley says to the room at large.
"Just let me know what they're planning," Buffy says. "I'll do my best to protect you. And don't tell them what we're doing."
Willy snorts, and Buffy sighs and pulls out an envelope. "Hundred bucks, Willy. Don't talk to Angel."
"Sure thing," Willy grins, catching the envelope and looking inside greedily. Buffy shakes her head in despair, and we leave. The bright sunlight is blinding after the gloom of the bar, and I blink several times. Buffy is yawning.
"Gah. I need sleep."
"You shouldn't stay so late patrolling," Riley says in a concerned voice.
"We weren't late. I couldn't sleep," Buffy replies.
"I hope you're not taking this all too seriously," Riley says, taking her hand again. "I mean, yeah, he's not good news, but you've taken down some bad vamps in your time."
Buffy smiles sadly and shakes her head. "This is different, Riley."
He looks unconvinced, and I make a mental note to show him the files later on.
The Slayer pushes open the door of Giles's magic shop - a new acquisition, apparently. It's a large shop, full of curious occult items, musty books and a smell of incense and herbs. There are books open all over the round table by the cash desk, and Giles, Willow and Tara are deep in a discussion. We cross the floor and join them, and Willow looks up.
"Hi. How was Willy?"
"We bribed him," Buffy says. She glances at me. "Can you reclaim that, d'you think?"
"I can try," I answer.
"We've narrowed down the spells the Breton might have used," Willow says, pushing books in Buffy's direction. "Giles thinks it's the one with the silver stake, I think it's the one with the circles and the vessel-thing."
"The first is much simpler," Giles says, wearily, obviously repeating something he has said before. "I've read nothing which . which suggests that he is an experienced magician. Your spell is too complicated."
Willow makes a face at him.
"He seemed fairly intelligent," I say aloud, musing on the vampire I had met the night before. "And surely he'd know Latin to be able to say the spell?"
Willow looks grateful, and taps the book. "See?"
Giles takes off his glasses, and puts them on the table. "Perhaps you're right. But neither spell is reversible, in any case, so we are no better off."
Silence falls. Willow leafs through a book half-heartedly, and Buffy examines her fingernails.
The stillness is suddenly broken by the ring of my mobile phone, and I frown and pull it out. "Mike Fletcher."
"Mike. How's it going?" Quentin Travers. I make a 'be silent!' gesture to Giles and the others, and move to a corner.
"Well, they're here, sir," I say.
"Good, good," Travers says, and I think of retorting that no, it isn't good, and would he like to try killing off Angelus for me?
"There are four of them," I content myself in replying. "Angelus, Darla, the Breton, and another man. Young, black, I think."
Travers makes an interested noise and I can hear his pen scratching on paper. "Have you a plan?"
"No, sir, but I hope to discover where they're hiding out during the day, soon."
"And what about the Slayer?" Travers asks. "I hope you haven't been seen by her."
I grimace. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of her, sir. I'll do my best not to run into her."
"Excellent, Mike. Well, keep us updated."
"Yes, sir."
In England, Travers puts the phone down, and I disconnect mine.
"Council?" asks Giles, and I nod.
"Quentin Travers."
Buffy makes a face. "Nasty man," she says. "So you've not seen me?"
"Not at all," I smile. "God, I hate this whole situation. We should all be working with each other, with the Council's funds behind us, and an army of agents. Blow up wherever it is they're sleeping during the day, or something. Not trying to slay the Scourge of Europe, his sire, and two other vamps like this. It's madness."
"There, I am inclined to agree," Giles says reassuringly. "But we have little choice, and it won't be the first time we've beaten the odds. Now, let's find this spell, and perhaps we'll be a little closer."
All of us, even Riley, bend over the books again, and silence falls once more in the shop.