"Elementary, my dear Willow," muttered Warren, as he passed unseen through the Sunnydale Police Station. An old stone structure, recently repaired, full of computers, filing cabinets and offices. The one he was looking for belonged to a Detective Brian Stone, who, he had discovered after some blatant eavesdropping, was assigned to the Sunnydale Massacre. "Even as a Crime Lord I knew hat the Sunnydale PD were all charter members of the Legion of Dorkness. You'd think they'd have better security than this."
He soon found the required cubicle, and was happy to see that Stone was nowhere in existence. Not that he intended to explain his presence, should Stone have been here and lucky, or unlucky, enough to detect his presence, but it made things easier. Easier still as Detective Stone had been working on the file, and had left it on top of his desk.
If anyone were present, they would have seen the bright green file folder open itself flat on the polished wooden surface, and pages rise suddenly in the air. They might also have been puzzled by the scent of pipe smoke, doubly puzzled as Detective Stone was one of those reformed smokers, who simply detested the presence of tobacco, in any of its forms, within a ten mile radius of himself.
"Eight," Warren told Willow later that night. "Eight males taken to that gully outside of town, and bludgeoned, hit with a blunt instrument. Then, if that were not enough, their throats were slit, and there was evidence of broken bones, dislocated shoulders, other trauma. Including the loss of skin and flesh. Nothing but bone."
"So not what I wanted to hear." Willow squelched the image of a skinless Warren stalking around her/their apartment, with a pipe clenched through his teeth, trying to talk coherently through skinless lips. She was glad that he was dressed in a trench coat and had a deerskin cap jammed down over his head. Queasy enough, but a little bit, a tiny little bit, better.
"Hey, your a detective now, the associate of a Great Detective." Warren ignored Willow's shudder. "One who can go where few others could go, when no others could go. No doors are closed to me," he said proudly.
"Then what do you need me for?"
"Even Sherlock had his Watson, Wolfe his Goodwin. Poirot his Colonel, well I forget his name, but they all had their foil, one, not so smart, that they could bounce ideas off, get to do the leg work, the stuff that was beneath them to do."
"Being dead has done little for your ego," said Willow, who's mind was balking at the "not so smart" part of Warren's little speech. "You certainly like yourself."
"If I don't who will?"
"Good point," muttered Willow in a voice, she hoped, was low enough so that Warren couldn't hear.
"If he did, he gave no sign, but went on with his report.
"According to the coppers, the victims wee all from Sunnydale, and were last seen playing a game of street soccer. Well not street as it was in Sunnydale High parking lot, but you know what I mean. Thing is, they don't know who they were playing. Got that?" Warren nodded to laptop Willow was typing on.
"Verbatim," said Willow. "Would you like me to read it back to you?"
"No need," Warren waved a hand dismissivly. "Now, way I see it, we got to find out who they were playing. If it was just a random game or what?" One more round of the living room and Warren fixed Willow with a lidless eye. "Your notebook. Instructions."
"Instructions," yelped Willow. "Your giving me instructions? What about first billing in our partnership."
"You get first billing because your fronting this operation. You see, people won't talk to me."
Willow groaned and thought about life in a mountaintop monastery in Greece.
"Mom," Buffy called out as she closed the door behind her, and then stood still. It had been so long since she had done anything like that, and well, she felt weird. Even more weird than she had in the recent past, which was plenty weird enough. If her mother was here, she wasn't answering, but Dawn came downstairs. There was definitely a puzzled look on her face.
"Buffy?" Dawn stopped mid stairs, wondering if she should continue or flee. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Dawn, just tired." Buffy smiled weakly. "Just really tired." She turned towards the kitchen.
"I haven't told her anything." Came Joyce's voice from behind her. "Yet."
Buffy turned to see her mother standing, floating, whatever, by the kitchen island. "Can you please not do that."
"I suppose I could do something." Joyce thought a moment, and suddenly the kitchen smelled of Joyce's favorite perfume.
"Buffy? Did you bathe in Mom's perfume?"
Joyce and Buffy turned to see Dawn standing hesitantly in the doorway. Buffy paused, then came to a decision.
"Mom's here, Dawn. You just can't see her. Yet."
"Buffy, what are you talking about."
"Buffy, do you really think you should?"
"Why not Mom?' Buffy glanced at Joyce. "Doesn't she deserve to know?"
"Know what?" Dawn took a couple steps into the kitchen. "What should I know?"
"They don't think I'm doing a good enough job with you," Buffy said bitterly. "So they're sending mom back to help."
"Buffy, you know that's not true. You're doing a fine job. It's just that there are some things you can't help with. Dawn is approaching a period of her life when other things will be taking an interest in her, her powers. I'm just here to help with that. This has nothing to do with the job you are doing with Dawn."
"Then why are you interfering," Buffy asked bitterly. "If I'm doing so great a job then why did you let her go to that dance when I didn't want her to?"
"We've been over that. If she got the idea that the only way to gain some freedom was with the use of her portal opening power, who knows where she would have ended up."
"Xander could..."
"Xander is not all powerful. There are places in this universe where he can not go. But Dawn can."
"Buffy what's going on? Who are you talking to?"
"Can't you see her," Buffy snapped at Dawn, then seeing the frightened look. "No I guess you can't." She sighed, calming herself down some. Look, we need to talk okay? Just later."
Buffy turned back to the island, and saw that her mother was gone.
"Oh great. Just great."
"Hey Cordy." Xander dropped into the bench beside her. "How's it going with the demony thing and all."
Cordelia looked at him, then back to the playground where she'd been watching the kids at play. "You sure know how to charm a lady."
Xander glanced up at the blue sky. :Just wanted to thank you for what you did last night."
"Just doing what we do in LA. Saving souls." Cordelia paused. "I didn't get you in any kind of trouble did I?"
"Nah. Just wasn't anything I could do about it." Xander grinned. "Who's to say it wasn't all part of His plan?"
"Yeah right." cordela leaned her head against the bench. "What I can't figure is why you told them. They're at me to keep the whole demon thing a secret."
:They never told me either, just gave me pickup that was right under their noses. Can't say they were too thrilled."
"Buffy must have freaked." Cordelia glanced at Xander. "Scuttle has it she tried to take you out on a couple occasions."
"Nothing I couldn't handle." Xander shrugged.. "She's been having a rough time of it. Ever since she got yanked out of Heaven. Well not Heaven exactly, but close enough. The with what's been happening, her mother coming back. She needs time to sort things out."
"What's the sitch with the Valaasco Sisters?' Cordelia decided to change the subject.
"Another few days to go yet. Giles Wesley and Fred are going over the final details, and we all gather together tomorrow for a strategy meeting, and then I work with Dawn, so she can open a portal top Ysandrillo."
"You think we have a chance? Word is the Valaasco Sisters pack quite a punch."
"Another reason I wanted to meet with you." Xander put his full attention on Cordelia's face. "We go in according to plan, but if it doesn't work we need a back up."
"Oh and what would that be?"
"Your demon powers. I don't really know what all you can do, but can you do a lot of pushing with it?"
"Yeah so?"
"So if push comes to shove Dawn opens a portal to some hell dimension and you push them through it."
He soon found the required cubicle, and was happy to see that Stone was nowhere in existence. Not that he intended to explain his presence, should Stone have been here and lucky, or unlucky, enough to detect his presence, but it made things easier. Easier still as Detective Stone had been working on the file, and had left it on top of his desk.
If anyone were present, they would have seen the bright green file folder open itself flat on the polished wooden surface, and pages rise suddenly in the air. They might also have been puzzled by the scent of pipe smoke, doubly puzzled as Detective Stone was one of those reformed smokers, who simply detested the presence of tobacco, in any of its forms, within a ten mile radius of himself.
"Eight," Warren told Willow later that night. "Eight males taken to that gully outside of town, and bludgeoned, hit with a blunt instrument. Then, if that were not enough, their throats were slit, and there was evidence of broken bones, dislocated shoulders, other trauma. Including the loss of skin and flesh. Nothing but bone."
"So not what I wanted to hear." Willow squelched the image of a skinless Warren stalking around her/their apartment, with a pipe clenched through his teeth, trying to talk coherently through skinless lips. She was glad that he was dressed in a trench coat and had a deerskin cap jammed down over his head. Queasy enough, but a little bit, a tiny little bit, better.
"Hey, your a detective now, the associate of a Great Detective." Warren ignored Willow's shudder. "One who can go where few others could go, when no others could go. No doors are closed to me," he said proudly.
"Then what do you need me for?"
"Even Sherlock had his Watson, Wolfe his Goodwin. Poirot his Colonel, well I forget his name, but they all had their foil, one, not so smart, that they could bounce ideas off, get to do the leg work, the stuff that was beneath them to do."
"Being dead has done little for your ego," said Willow, who's mind was balking at the "not so smart" part of Warren's little speech. "You certainly like yourself."
"If I don't who will?"
"Good point," muttered Willow in a voice, she hoped, was low enough so that Warren couldn't hear.
"If he did, he gave no sign, but went on with his report.
"According to the coppers, the victims wee all from Sunnydale, and were last seen playing a game of street soccer. Well not street as it was in Sunnydale High parking lot, but you know what I mean. Thing is, they don't know who they were playing. Got that?" Warren nodded to laptop Willow was typing on.
"Verbatim," said Willow. "Would you like me to read it back to you?"
"No need," Warren waved a hand dismissivly. "Now, way I see it, we got to find out who they were playing. If it was just a random game or what?" One more round of the living room and Warren fixed Willow with a lidless eye. "Your notebook. Instructions."
"Instructions," yelped Willow. "Your giving me instructions? What about first billing in our partnership."
"You get first billing because your fronting this operation. You see, people won't talk to me."
Willow groaned and thought about life in a mountaintop monastery in Greece.
"Mom," Buffy called out as she closed the door behind her, and then stood still. It had been so long since she had done anything like that, and well, she felt weird. Even more weird than she had in the recent past, which was plenty weird enough. If her mother was here, she wasn't answering, but Dawn came downstairs. There was definitely a puzzled look on her face.
"Buffy?" Dawn stopped mid stairs, wondering if she should continue or flee. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Dawn, just tired." Buffy smiled weakly. "Just really tired." She turned towards the kitchen.
"I haven't told her anything." Came Joyce's voice from behind her. "Yet."
Buffy turned to see her mother standing, floating, whatever, by the kitchen island. "Can you please not do that."
"I suppose I could do something." Joyce thought a moment, and suddenly the kitchen smelled of Joyce's favorite perfume.
"Buffy? Did you bathe in Mom's perfume?"
Joyce and Buffy turned to see Dawn standing hesitantly in the doorway. Buffy paused, then came to a decision.
"Mom's here, Dawn. You just can't see her. Yet."
"Buffy, what are you talking about."
"Buffy, do you really think you should?"
"Why not Mom?' Buffy glanced at Joyce. "Doesn't she deserve to know?"
"Know what?" Dawn took a couple steps into the kitchen. "What should I know?"
"They don't think I'm doing a good enough job with you," Buffy said bitterly. "So they're sending mom back to help."
"Buffy, you know that's not true. You're doing a fine job. It's just that there are some things you can't help with. Dawn is approaching a period of her life when other things will be taking an interest in her, her powers. I'm just here to help with that. This has nothing to do with the job you are doing with Dawn."
"Then why are you interfering," Buffy asked bitterly. "If I'm doing so great a job then why did you let her go to that dance when I didn't want her to?"
"We've been over that. If she got the idea that the only way to gain some freedom was with the use of her portal opening power, who knows where she would have ended up."
"Xander could..."
"Xander is not all powerful. There are places in this universe where he can not go. But Dawn can."
"Buffy what's going on? Who are you talking to?"
"Can't you see her," Buffy snapped at Dawn, then seeing the frightened look. "No I guess you can't." She sighed, calming herself down some. Look, we need to talk okay? Just later."
Buffy turned back to the island, and saw that her mother was gone.
"Oh great. Just great."
"Hey Cordy." Xander dropped into the bench beside her. "How's it going with the demony thing and all."
Cordelia looked at him, then back to the playground where she'd been watching the kids at play. "You sure know how to charm a lady."
Xander glanced up at the blue sky. :Just wanted to thank you for what you did last night."
"Just doing what we do in LA. Saving souls." Cordelia paused. "I didn't get you in any kind of trouble did I?"
"Nah. Just wasn't anything I could do about it." Xander grinned. "Who's to say it wasn't all part of His plan?"
"Yeah right." cordela leaned her head against the bench. "What I can't figure is why you told them. They're at me to keep the whole demon thing a secret."
:They never told me either, just gave me pickup that was right under their noses. Can't say they were too thrilled."
"Buffy must have freaked." Cordelia glanced at Xander. "Scuttle has it she tried to take you out on a couple occasions."
"Nothing I couldn't handle." Xander shrugged.. "She's been having a rough time of it. Ever since she got yanked out of Heaven. Well not Heaven exactly, but close enough. The with what's been happening, her mother coming back. She needs time to sort things out."
"What's the sitch with the Valaasco Sisters?' Cordelia decided to change the subject.
"Another few days to go yet. Giles Wesley and Fred are going over the final details, and we all gather together tomorrow for a strategy meeting, and then I work with Dawn, so she can open a portal top Ysandrillo."
"You think we have a chance? Word is the Valaasco Sisters pack quite a punch."
"Another reason I wanted to meet with you." Xander put his full attention on Cordelia's face. "We go in according to plan, but if it doesn't work we need a back up."
"Oh and what would that be?"
"Your demon powers. I don't really know what all you can do, but can you do a lot of pushing with it?"
"Yeah so?"
"So if push comes to shove Dawn opens a portal to some hell dimension and you push them through it."