*means thoughts*
******
Act II: Zeppo Reloaded
Part 3 - Adventures in Babysitting
******
"Although the day began with our group in very dire straits, we were able to end it quite victoriously. Thanks in large part to Xander's unorthodox stratagems, The Judge was successfully neutralized by Slayer Buffy once more. Not for the first time, the young lad came through for us at the right time to make a crucial difference in the fight. When given the opportunity, he has proven himself to be most capable."
Excerpt from the Diary of Rupert Giles, Field Watcher. Watchers Council Archives February, 1998
******
East Side Slum Apartment Afternoon,
"Are you ready to share yet?" The voice was calm, almost conversational. Surprising, given the fact that the speaker was grazing a very sharp knife against Eddie's throat. Eddie was scared. Eddie was hurting. Eddie's body was basically warm Jell-O. He'd been roughed up in his time, even by a Slayer, but the guy working him now was a real pro.
It was a part of being a Yahtdan Demon, they were known for info. Some customers paid; others, who lacked the time or interest for a proper negotiation, bullied. It was one reason why he normally maintained a bodyguard. He cast a woeful look at the ferocious yet domesticated Wendigo, currently sleeping soundly on the carpet. He had no idea what this guy, this Cold Blooded Killer in head-to-toe ink-black camouflage, did to him, but the fact that he did it so easily was ominous. Eddie hated ominous.
Killer really seemed to know his stuff. He'd done his homework on the Wendigo, and proceeded to work over Eddie by hitting him where it hurt, badly. Which was kinda surprising because, even with their fairly humanoid look, the anatomy of Yahtdan was different then a human on the inside. Simply put, Yahtdan's major-ouch areas were very different then a human's; Eddie took advantage of that when he could, before. Now, Eddie had been rendered a quivering mess on the floor.
The fact was that the info Killer was looking for was very big time stuff. If it had been something run-of-the-mill, then things never would have got this far; Eddie woulda happily spilled his guts to keep from having his guts spilled. But something this. sensitive? Either way, he'd be a dead demon. It'd be simply a matter of how and when.
"I." Eddie cursed the tremble in his voice. "I can't tell you that, please?" He almost wailed the last word.
"Are you sure?" Killer rubbed the flat of the blade against Eddie's cheek, slightly tilting it every so often so that the cutting edge broke skin. The blood mingled with the single tear streaks running down Eddie's face. Eddie fought to keep from trembling. He failed.
"Please don't kill me." Now Eddie sounded broken. He'd been close to death before, one reason why he spent so much on the damn Wendigo. He was a gossiper, not a fighter, dammit!
"If you have nothing of value." Killer's cold calm trailed off nonchalantly, as if he were squishing an insect. He slowly raised the knife back, and paused, looking at Eddie with perfectly dead eyes. Eddie's eyes widened. Killer shrugged.
Without blinking, the blade seemed to rush forward with terrible speed, like Killer was an extension of the blade and not the other way around. Eddie felt a scream choked off in his throat. He didn't want to die!
"Wai..!!" Killer imbedded the blade into the wall, the razor edge slightly nicking Eddie's throat. Eddie pressed his eyes shut, tried to refuse the urge to look at death still vibrating on his right, tried to swallow back the tears of fear that wanted to leak out. He failed at the last two. Eddie shuddered from his soul.
"You have something to say?" Killer could've been ordering an extra-value meal for all the care his tone implied. Eddie sniffled, tears streaming, trembling like a leaf, almost too scared to be embarrassed. Almost.
Eddie spilled.
******
Some time later, Same place
He stepped away from the blubbering mass on the floor, contemplating what he'd just learned. It was certainly surprising, if not totally complete.
He looked back at Eddie, thought about giving it another go and dismissed it quickly. One thing he'd learned in this Game is when to say when. And Eddie shared all he knew about any and everything even remotely connected to the subject. He smirked, some of the info might provide a good bargaining chip in the future.
"Thank you, Eddie." He nodded easily. With a bit of sleight-of-hand, he tossed a $1000 bill at Eddie, who flinched as it fluttered down to him. He moved to the window, watching Eddie pick up the bill warily out of the corner of his eyes.
"And next time." He paused at the windowsill. Eddie looked up, eyes wide.
"Let's not have to do this the hard way?" Eddie nodded like an obedient puppy.
He glided out to the fire escape overlooking the shadowed alley. Taking the steps two at a time, he allowed himself to exhale. It'd been awhile since he'd done something like this, up and active in the field. Good to know he hadn't lost his touch. Simon would be proud.
He reached the roof, and his gear. The Intel he'd gained was very crucial. The Watcher might need to know something about this. And there were ways of contacting him, discretely. He needed to report in first, see what the plan might be. He looked around, checking his perimeter for anything or anybody, especially for those with enhanced hearing.
Satisfied, he turned to face a wall, flipped open his cell-phone, hitting a speed-dial preset. The phone rang once, clicked and went silent. He responded simultaneously with his personal access code and verbal password spoken low but clear. The phone beeped in answer, clicked and went silent again. He knew not to wait for acknowledgement.
"Sir, its Janus. There is a problem."
******
30 minutes later,
He was sitting in his office filing paperwork, when his phone rang twice in a low-volume sudden burst of varying pitch. He stilled, surprised. 'Six never called just to shoot the breeze, especially during the "work day."
He checked his immediate surroundings, even though he knew no one was around. The kids were all in class. And there was never anyone else who bothered coming into the Library. He answered the phone before it could ring a second time, hearing silence. He dialed an access code, paused, repeated it, and heard a click.
"What is the situation?"
"Just another normal day on the Hellmouth, Mr. Giles." M's voice calmly responded. Giles sighed.
"Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful."
******
Roughly the same time, SHS Classroom
Xander was sitting in his Spanish class, paying attention to the lecture, yet also trying to finish the homework assignment, when his pocket began vibrating in short bursts, softly. He stilled, put down his pen. He looked around; nobody heard anything. He reached into his pocket, turning the phone off completely. The teacher paused in her lecture, he raised his hand.
"Yes, Xander?" Miss Lopez looked at him, as did everyone else. Miss Lopez was always somewhat nice to him, nicer then most of his teachers at any rate. He ignored Cordelia's steady glaring from his right.
"May I go to the bathroom?" He tried to look sincere.
"Okay, Xander, just hurry back." He left in a rush that was not entirely faked.
******
Late Afternoon, City Hall
He stood in the shadows, waiting to deliver a status update. He could see Wilkins conducting a meeting with an underling. He could be patient. He mastered that skill having to deal with that Outdated, Overgrown Goat. Manipulating things to create the circumstance for his death had been quite satisfying both personally and professionally.
Professionally, being a master vamp did have its kicks. Power, respect, and all the blood you could handle once things got smooth. But being the right hand of the Master of the Hellmouth, well, that was a different breed.
With that, there was a level of subtle elegance. A polished kind of cool that Kakistos, a cheap bastard who wouldn't pop for cable and MJ's 2nd Coming and repeat 3-peat, even though he had more money than several small countries, would never understand, much less possess. A refinement Mayor Richard Wilkins III had in spades. What do you expect to find when the man ran both a city and a Hellmouth for a century?
The underling was finishing up. As he watched the man leave, he turned to see Wilkins acknowledge him.
"Mr. Trick, please do come in and have a seat."
******
Sometime later, East Side private residence
"Ladies, Gentlevamps." The line drew a small polite chuckle; he continued smoothly.
"You know who I am, and who I work for." He paused, confirming their pointed attention.
"You know the plan and the objective. This is your chance to move up the food chain." Again, he paused. "You all pull this off, and truthfully, the sky is the limit."
The 8-pack of vamps applauded. This little band was vicious and nasty, but lacked leadership. With proper leadership, they could become a real force for the organization. Speaking of which.
He gestured to his left, placing his hand on the only other human, and he used that term loosely if not really accurately, in the place.
"Here's your Quarterback for this job. You've worked together before, and this is a good time to get all of your feet wet. And again, this goes well, there will be plenty more jobs and mayhem. Lucrative mayhem."
All of them, including their newly appointed commander, started grinning madly.
Janson smiled back. His job was done. If everything, God willing, goes well, things would be looking up for him as well. His smile turned manically dark with ambition. Very up indeed.
******
Early Evening, East Side Diner.
X was laughing. Dawnie was making him laugh. They were all laughing, together.
She took the time to enjoy his laugh, though.
She liked listening to him laugh. She liked watching him laugh.
She didn't mean that goofy, Jim Carrey-like, Fresh-off-SNL type of laugh he used when in "public." To her, that always rang slightly false, like he was projecting and just trying too hard to be what everyone expects. She could never figure out why no one else seemed to notice. It wouldn't be the first thing to pass under their stuck-up radar.
Nope, she meant that easy, sincere chuckle he used when he was genuinely amused. It was cool and wicked smooth, like a sweet invitation that just reaches out and draws you in close.
Like everything in that special place was 5 x 5.
She liked being invited to that special place.
Lately, it felt like she was practically paying rent there. It was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. She was never good at intimacy; she knew this, accepted it, and embraced it. With only one exception. Maybe two.
Internally, she sighed. *I guess that nightmare about Linda must've went deeper than I thought.*
She noticed X noticing her, narrowing his eyes, like he was aware of her momentary distress. She could practically hear his voice in her head, asking if she was okay. Against her will, a half-smile twitched its way onto her face. *Am I that transparent?*
She shook her head barely a fraction, dismissed his concern, smirked. He nodded half a touch, shrugging, Baby D sipped her soda, with a nonchalance that she just couldn't quite pull off. That half-smile blew into an easy chuckle, one X shared. Big Sis would've never caught that, much less "reacted" almost perfectly. Baby D just shrugged, as if to say 'gotta love me,' grinning.
She really liked Dawnie. When X told her he got Mrs. S's permission to take Junior Summers out for dinner instead of ordering a pizza during his night-o-babysat, she'd been thrilled. She was smart as a whip, funny, cool for her age and was going to be blazing hot in a few tics. Definite future comp for her spot as the baddest chick in the 'Dale.
She'd hung with Dawnie every now again, Christmas being most memorable, but since that night a few weeks back when they saved her life, they'd both taken to spending even more time with her. She felt like an honest-to-God big sister for the first time in her life. It was a feeling she found much easier to deal with then her feelings for X.
And still, here they all were, just swapping stories and having a blast.
Forgetting about the dark coming tonight. Forgetting about what tonight might hold. Forgetting about the way she always feels safer, better, when X is near her.
Just being cool. Just being happy. Just being.
*When did I get so frickin' introspective?*
She shrugged to herself, took another swig of her soda, got ready for her turn.
******
"So I'm chasing him under the rafters, right."
Faith was smirking; He was grinning; Dawn Patrol was laughing, anticipating the punch line in advance.
He could listen to her husky voice all day.
Especially when her voice has that happy sparkle underneath it. Like that loner weight has been lightened a bit and she can relax somewhat. He likes hearing it. Likes what it might mean. That she's beginning to trust him, if only a slight bit. He grabbed a fry, engrossed in her anecdote.
"I can hear the game still going. And I'm getting really pissed, cause it's the 9th inning and the Sox are down by 2 and here I am, stuck chasing a Goddamn bloodsucker underneath the frickin' Green Monster, which is not a demon, just a giant wall, by the way." She swigged her drink again, quickly, before she continued. Both Dawn and he were listening close. He could see she was trying to watch her language for the most part in front of Dawnie.
"So finally, I corner the dumbass, we start with the hard knocks and all. I kick his scrawny ass into two new shapes."
"Cause you're Faith." Dawn says with not just a little hero worship.
"Got that right, Baby D." Faith responds proudly. He stays quiet, just enjoying the whole bit.
"So, I'm about to introduce him to a piece of Home Depot's finest, and, all of a sudden, a huge long cheer erupts from the crowd." She shakes her head, chuckling.
"Oh my god," he said, already seeing some of what's coming. He tried not to laugh. She mock-scowled at him anyway. He laughed harder. Dawn still looked a bit confused.
"What?" Faith holds up her hand, gesturing for patience.
"So the loudspeaker announces what happened: 3-run homer, Sox win." He and Dawn both laugh, Faith chuckles for a bit. "I cheer, still mad for missing it though. The leech groans. I look down, like 'What?' Know what he says?" She takes another sip, dragging out the moment.
He began tapping his foot loudly. Dawn snorted, laughing. Faith fought a smile, narrowed her eyes. She looked under the table at it, like it was a bug. She stepped not soft but not hard onto the foot, trapped it there. He raised an eyebrow, cocked his head. She matched him. The three of them laugh again. Neither of them felt a need to move their feet.
"So, crowd's screaming, everybody going nuts, I'm about to send this vamp to the great dust-buster in the sky so I can celebrate, and he's whining and groaning all sudden-like. 'What?' I say. 'I'm a Yankees fan,'" mocking the vamp's 'woeful' voice.
They busted out laughing again. She paused, continued. "I ask him, shocked, 'From Boston?' 'Born and bred' he says. I'm like 'What?' I hit him extra hard with the blunt end first three times, then slammed the stake home. Wished I coulda dusted him twice. Frickin' Frontrunner."
Again, they laughed. He could picture the whole thing. He always liked learning a little bit more about Faith's past, even just as an anecdote. Filling out more of that puzzle wrapped in an enigma covered in a conundrum that was Faith.
Faith ate more of her fries; started another short story X already heard during a stake-out. Dawn was enthused though.
He did like watching her connect with Dawn. The two of them have such a vibe going, people often thought that Faith was Dawnie's older sister. Which didn't say much for the Buffster, who never really seemed to want to be around her family. He sighed. One thing he knew was that family, especially a good family, is important.
But Dawn and Faith seemed to have really started to bond. Just like he and Dawnie did when he visited them often during last summer. Dawn Patrol and Miss Summers were worried sick, and he tried to do his best to alleviate it. He still popped over every so often, and babysat Dawn when he could, just so she'd know he wouldn't forget about her, that she still mattered.
He grinned brightly. Enjoying thinking about his favorite girls. He wondered how would Faith react to being called "his." He chuckled internally. *Like being a demon-hunting secret agent apparently just ain't living quite dangerously enough.* Speaking of which.
He tapped his wrist twice above his wristwatch. Faith noticed, but didn't show that she noticed. It was almost that time.
******
Later that evening, SHS Library
For the second time today, he heard that distinct double-ring. Fortunately, Buffy had left sometime before and Oz, in his wolf form, was pacing restlessly in his cage. Again, he picked it up before the second ring, engaged in the security checks and awaited the click before speaking.
"Two in one day? This must be some kind of record." He was tired.
"Droll as usual, 013." M again.
"Well, if you do not recall, I am in the middle of yet another apocalypse."
"What is the status on that situation? Would you require a team sent just in case?"
He considered it for a moment, debated his options.
"That's all right M, I believe my people can handle it, though it may be close."
"All the same, 013, but I will send a team anyway as a precaution. They will maintain standby status and monitor the proceedings."
He sighed, recognizing a good idea when he heard it, rather then an attempt to undermine him. It would be nice knowing help is a button-push away, for once.
"That would be fine, M. Normal emergency protocols then?"
"Quite right, Mr. Giles. Also, there is something else. Our sources have uncovered another nugget of information that might be of interest."
"Oh really," He was curious, despite himself.
"We have obtained the identity of your replacement from the Council."
He groaned. The Jhe situation was enough of a debacle, much less having to deal with this down the line.
"Who is it? Anyone I know?"
"We are not quite sure, you did walk in similar circles with his father."
"Father?" He mentally ran down the list of likely candidates with that fact in mind. It led him to one possible conclusion.
"Oh no. Not Wyndbag-Price the Second?"
"Well, you got it in one, Mr. Giles, though the certainly. colorful moniker was a bit more than we need, or had."
"Well, he was a bit of a pompous nancy-boy, I tended to minimize most of my contact with the both of them, only when I needed his similarly pretentious, yet well-connected father as an absolute last resort. His inclusion in the higher echelon was always considered Nepotism of the worst sort."
"That does match what we have on him as well. He did slip off our radar a few years back, however."
"From what I heard, it was not important, just some type of wilderness retreat for Blue Bloods. The rumor was he met a girl there and decided to stay awhile. His father was not pleased."
"All right then. I will have some more digging done for you. The report will be out to you by mid-day."
"Thank you. I will look over it once the Hellmouth debacle has finished. Anything else?"
"That is all for now, Mr. Giles. Have a pleasant evening.
"You too, M. Cheers."
******
East side residence, Midnight.
Pop-Pow!
"Ahhhh!" Thump!
Thunk-Whoosh.
She smirked under her mask and stood.
As long as she lived, she never tired of the sound of a stake slamming home and a vamp going poof. The Wicked 2 strikes again; so fast, so sudden, and they were on top of the nest before the vamps knew what hit them.
After dropping Baby D off, X mentioned a possible raid. How X knew about this spot was beyond her. Gift horses and everything, right?
And these great toys. This time he'd come up with paintball guns filled with 'special cocktails.' A holy water/Butane party mix, able to hit a vamp in the face or the chest like a Rocket Roger high heater and light them up like Michael Jackson's hair in a Pepsi commercial. Wicked Sweet. She made a couple look like Christmas trees already, before she mercy- staked them.
She put the gun away, wanting to go hand-to-hand with the leftovers. One growled, stepped right up. She jabbed him twice, broke his nose, loosened teeth, snapped his head back. She danced a moment, before jabbing once more. The vamp deflected and fired back, she slipped the first punch, bob- and-weaved under the next, and fired a lightning combo jab-hook-cross, head- body-head, that staggered him to the wall. She danced again; a feature on Ali was on ESPN Classic while she ate breakfast, she took some mental notes.
The vamp bounced off the wall, rushed forward with a lunge. She slipped it again, popped a quick combo, hook-uppercut- cross, left-left-right, that broke his ribs, jaw, and sent him spinning like a top, crashing to the floor. She grinned, pulled her stake, finished him, and looked at X, who was currently in the middle of a clinic.
The vamp, nice and bloody, rushed X, reaching out. X swirled his arm, like he was waxing Mr. Miyagi's car, and wiped away the out-stretched arm then gripped it tight. He yanked the leech in, stomping on the vamp's foot, slamming his elbow into his nose at an angle, and kneeing him in the nuts, all at the same time in one motion. The vamp folded, collapsed to the floor, spread-eagle, very dazed. She could see the elbow-shot had rammed the nose directly into his brain. 'Death' shots like that take a moment for bloodsuckers to recover from. And X knew that. Still, he picked up the gun, and fired a paintball right at the vamp's nuts. Over the screams, she could hear the sizzling. X winced in sympathy. She chuckled.
"Good one, fresh roasted nuts, huh?" She could see him smile under the mask, heard that laugh she lo. liked so much.
"Ha ha, Gypsy girl." he reached into his backpack, pulling out the extra- duffle. He tossed it to her. "Your turn?"
"No problem, Nemo." She turned toward the steps, darting upstairs. They made a point not to use real names during 'ops,' as he called them. Maintaining the mystery, he said. He reminded her of Linda in that way. What good is a secret identity if you just broadcast to any Tom, Dick or Lestat within hearing range? She saw what that did for Buffy.
She liked the name he picked for her, though.
She liked being mysterious.
******
He watched her until she disappeared to the second floor, appreciating the view not for the first time. And not for the first time, he had to remind himself to slow down. That it wasn't the time yet. She'd become so important in practically every facet of his life, and to risk that.
He remembered what happened with Cordy, bearing the brunt of her anger almost every day was great for his short-term memory. He sighed, turned his attention to the still-moaning Hostile, who had writhed his way to lying in the fetal position against the wall, rocking slowly. He needed Intel, and fast, before Faith came back. She already had enough going on her plate. Tonight had weakened the threat, but not completely.
He pulled back his sleeve and fired a bolt right in the Hostile's upper right chest. The vamp recoiled, flopping like a fish. The screams increased.
"I'm going to ask you this once." He paused, crouching to make eye contact.
The vamp looked up, eyes tearing, and whimpered. He nodded his agreement.
"Tomorrow night, who is the leader, the 'quarterback'?"
The vamp's eyes widened. Xander moved his arm, pointing the wrist launcher directly at the vamp's terrified face. The point of the bolt lined up perfectly, staring into the hostile's eye. The hostile looked at Xander in naked fear, who raised an eyebrow still visible beneath the balaclava. The vamp shut his eyes and whispered a name.
"O'Toole."
******
******
Act II: Zeppo Reloaded
Part 3 - Adventures in Babysitting
******
"Although the day began with our group in very dire straits, we were able to end it quite victoriously. Thanks in large part to Xander's unorthodox stratagems, The Judge was successfully neutralized by Slayer Buffy once more. Not for the first time, the young lad came through for us at the right time to make a crucial difference in the fight. When given the opportunity, he has proven himself to be most capable."
Excerpt from the Diary of Rupert Giles, Field Watcher. Watchers Council Archives February, 1998
******
East Side Slum Apartment Afternoon,
"Are you ready to share yet?" The voice was calm, almost conversational. Surprising, given the fact that the speaker was grazing a very sharp knife against Eddie's throat. Eddie was scared. Eddie was hurting. Eddie's body was basically warm Jell-O. He'd been roughed up in his time, even by a Slayer, but the guy working him now was a real pro.
It was a part of being a Yahtdan Demon, they were known for info. Some customers paid; others, who lacked the time or interest for a proper negotiation, bullied. It was one reason why he normally maintained a bodyguard. He cast a woeful look at the ferocious yet domesticated Wendigo, currently sleeping soundly on the carpet. He had no idea what this guy, this Cold Blooded Killer in head-to-toe ink-black camouflage, did to him, but the fact that he did it so easily was ominous. Eddie hated ominous.
Killer really seemed to know his stuff. He'd done his homework on the Wendigo, and proceeded to work over Eddie by hitting him where it hurt, badly. Which was kinda surprising because, even with their fairly humanoid look, the anatomy of Yahtdan was different then a human on the inside. Simply put, Yahtdan's major-ouch areas were very different then a human's; Eddie took advantage of that when he could, before. Now, Eddie had been rendered a quivering mess on the floor.
The fact was that the info Killer was looking for was very big time stuff. If it had been something run-of-the-mill, then things never would have got this far; Eddie woulda happily spilled his guts to keep from having his guts spilled. But something this. sensitive? Either way, he'd be a dead demon. It'd be simply a matter of how and when.
"I." Eddie cursed the tremble in his voice. "I can't tell you that, please?" He almost wailed the last word.
"Are you sure?" Killer rubbed the flat of the blade against Eddie's cheek, slightly tilting it every so often so that the cutting edge broke skin. The blood mingled with the single tear streaks running down Eddie's face. Eddie fought to keep from trembling. He failed.
"Please don't kill me." Now Eddie sounded broken. He'd been close to death before, one reason why he spent so much on the damn Wendigo. He was a gossiper, not a fighter, dammit!
"If you have nothing of value." Killer's cold calm trailed off nonchalantly, as if he were squishing an insect. He slowly raised the knife back, and paused, looking at Eddie with perfectly dead eyes. Eddie's eyes widened. Killer shrugged.
Without blinking, the blade seemed to rush forward with terrible speed, like Killer was an extension of the blade and not the other way around. Eddie felt a scream choked off in his throat. He didn't want to die!
"Wai..!!" Killer imbedded the blade into the wall, the razor edge slightly nicking Eddie's throat. Eddie pressed his eyes shut, tried to refuse the urge to look at death still vibrating on his right, tried to swallow back the tears of fear that wanted to leak out. He failed at the last two. Eddie shuddered from his soul.
"You have something to say?" Killer could've been ordering an extra-value meal for all the care his tone implied. Eddie sniffled, tears streaming, trembling like a leaf, almost too scared to be embarrassed. Almost.
Eddie spilled.
******
Some time later, Same place
He stepped away from the blubbering mass on the floor, contemplating what he'd just learned. It was certainly surprising, if not totally complete.
He looked back at Eddie, thought about giving it another go and dismissed it quickly. One thing he'd learned in this Game is when to say when. And Eddie shared all he knew about any and everything even remotely connected to the subject. He smirked, some of the info might provide a good bargaining chip in the future.
"Thank you, Eddie." He nodded easily. With a bit of sleight-of-hand, he tossed a $1000 bill at Eddie, who flinched as it fluttered down to him. He moved to the window, watching Eddie pick up the bill warily out of the corner of his eyes.
"And next time." He paused at the windowsill. Eddie looked up, eyes wide.
"Let's not have to do this the hard way?" Eddie nodded like an obedient puppy.
He glided out to the fire escape overlooking the shadowed alley. Taking the steps two at a time, he allowed himself to exhale. It'd been awhile since he'd done something like this, up and active in the field. Good to know he hadn't lost his touch. Simon would be proud.
He reached the roof, and his gear. The Intel he'd gained was very crucial. The Watcher might need to know something about this. And there were ways of contacting him, discretely. He needed to report in first, see what the plan might be. He looked around, checking his perimeter for anything or anybody, especially for those with enhanced hearing.
Satisfied, he turned to face a wall, flipped open his cell-phone, hitting a speed-dial preset. The phone rang once, clicked and went silent. He responded simultaneously with his personal access code and verbal password spoken low but clear. The phone beeped in answer, clicked and went silent again. He knew not to wait for acknowledgement.
"Sir, its Janus. There is a problem."
******
30 minutes later,
He was sitting in his office filing paperwork, when his phone rang twice in a low-volume sudden burst of varying pitch. He stilled, surprised. 'Six never called just to shoot the breeze, especially during the "work day."
He checked his immediate surroundings, even though he knew no one was around. The kids were all in class. And there was never anyone else who bothered coming into the Library. He answered the phone before it could ring a second time, hearing silence. He dialed an access code, paused, repeated it, and heard a click.
"What is the situation?"
"Just another normal day on the Hellmouth, Mr. Giles." M's voice calmly responded. Giles sighed.
"Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful."
******
Roughly the same time, SHS Classroom
Xander was sitting in his Spanish class, paying attention to the lecture, yet also trying to finish the homework assignment, when his pocket began vibrating in short bursts, softly. He stilled, put down his pen. He looked around; nobody heard anything. He reached into his pocket, turning the phone off completely. The teacher paused in her lecture, he raised his hand.
"Yes, Xander?" Miss Lopez looked at him, as did everyone else. Miss Lopez was always somewhat nice to him, nicer then most of his teachers at any rate. He ignored Cordelia's steady glaring from his right.
"May I go to the bathroom?" He tried to look sincere.
"Okay, Xander, just hurry back." He left in a rush that was not entirely faked.
******
Late Afternoon, City Hall
He stood in the shadows, waiting to deliver a status update. He could see Wilkins conducting a meeting with an underling. He could be patient. He mastered that skill having to deal with that Outdated, Overgrown Goat. Manipulating things to create the circumstance for his death had been quite satisfying both personally and professionally.
Professionally, being a master vamp did have its kicks. Power, respect, and all the blood you could handle once things got smooth. But being the right hand of the Master of the Hellmouth, well, that was a different breed.
With that, there was a level of subtle elegance. A polished kind of cool that Kakistos, a cheap bastard who wouldn't pop for cable and MJ's 2nd Coming and repeat 3-peat, even though he had more money than several small countries, would never understand, much less possess. A refinement Mayor Richard Wilkins III had in spades. What do you expect to find when the man ran both a city and a Hellmouth for a century?
The underling was finishing up. As he watched the man leave, he turned to see Wilkins acknowledge him.
"Mr. Trick, please do come in and have a seat."
******
Sometime later, East Side private residence
"Ladies, Gentlevamps." The line drew a small polite chuckle; he continued smoothly.
"You know who I am, and who I work for." He paused, confirming their pointed attention.
"You know the plan and the objective. This is your chance to move up the food chain." Again, he paused. "You all pull this off, and truthfully, the sky is the limit."
The 8-pack of vamps applauded. This little band was vicious and nasty, but lacked leadership. With proper leadership, they could become a real force for the organization. Speaking of which.
He gestured to his left, placing his hand on the only other human, and he used that term loosely if not really accurately, in the place.
"Here's your Quarterback for this job. You've worked together before, and this is a good time to get all of your feet wet. And again, this goes well, there will be plenty more jobs and mayhem. Lucrative mayhem."
All of them, including their newly appointed commander, started grinning madly.
Janson smiled back. His job was done. If everything, God willing, goes well, things would be looking up for him as well. His smile turned manically dark with ambition. Very up indeed.
******
Early Evening, East Side Diner.
X was laughing. Dawnie was making him laugh. They were all laughing, together.
She took the time to enjoy his laugh, though.
She liked listening to him laugh. She liked watching him laugh.
She didn't mean that goofy, Jim Carrey-like, Fresh-off-SNL type of laugh he used when in "public." To her, that always rang slightly false, like he was projecting and just trying too hard to be what everyone expects. She could never figure out why no one else seemed to notice. It wouldn't be the first thing to pass under their stuck-up radar.
Nope, she meant that easy, sincere chuckle he used when he was genuinely amused. It was cool and wicked smooth, like a sweet invitation that just reaches out and draws you in close.
Like everything in that special place was 5 x 5.
She liked being invited to that special place.
Lately, it felt like she was practically paying rent there. It was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. She was never good at intimacy; she knew this, accepted it, and embraced it. With only one exception. Maybe two.
Internally, she sighed. *I guess that nightmare about Linda must've went deeper than I thought.*
She noticed X noticing her, narrowing his eyes, like he was aware of her momentary distress. She could practically hear his voice in her head, asking if she was okay. Against her will, a half-smile twitched its way onto her face. *Am I that transparent?*
She shook her head barely a fraction, dismissed his concern, smirked. He nodded half a touch, shrugging, Baby D sipped her soda, with a nonchalance that she just couldn't quite pull off. That half-smile blew into an easy chuckle, one X shared. Big Sis would've never caught that, much less "reacted" almost perfectly. Baby D just shrugged, as if to say 'gotta love me,' grinning.
She really liked Dawnie. When X told her he got Mrs. S's permission to take Junior Summers out for dinner instead of ordering a pizza during his night-o-babysat, she'd been thrilled. She was smart as a whip, funny, cool for her age and was going to be blazing hot in a few tics. Definite future comp for her spot as the baddest chick in the 'Dale.
She'd hung with Dawnie every now again, Christmas being most memorable, but since that night a few weeks back when they saved her life, they'd both taken to spending even more time with her. She felt like an honest-to-God big sister for the first time in her life. It was a feeling she found much easier to deal with then her feelings for X.
And still, here they all were, just swapping stories and having a blast.
Forgetting about the dark coming tonight. Forgetting about what tonight might hold. Forgetting about the way she always feels safer, better, when X is near her.
Just being cool. Just being happy. Just being.
*When did I get so frickin' introspective?*
She shrugged to herself, took another swig of her soda, got ready for her turn.
******
"So I'm chasing him under the rafters, right."
Faith was smirking; He was grinning; Dawn Patrol was laughing, anticipating the punch line in advance.
He could listen to her husky voice all day.
Especially when her voice has that happy sparkle underneath it. Like that loner weight has been lightened a bit and she can relax somewhat. He likes hearing it. Likes what it might mean. That she's beginning to trust him, if only a slight bit. He grabbed a fry, engrossed in her anecdote.
"I can hear the game still going. And I'm getting really pissed, cause it's the 9th inning and the Sox are down by 2 and here I am, stuck chasing a Goddamn bloodsucker underneath the frickin' Green Monster, which is not a demon, just a giant wall, by the way." She swigged her drink again, quickly, before she continued. Both Dawn and he were listening close. He could see she was trying to watch her language for the most part in front of Dawnie.
"So finally, I corner the dumbass, we start with the hard knocks and all. I kick his scrawny ass into two new shapes."
"Cause you're Faith." Dawn says with not just a little hero worship.
"Got that right, Baby D." Faith responds proudly. He stays quiet, just enjoying the whole bit.
"So, I'm about to introduce him to a piece of Home Depot's finest, and, all of a sudden, a huge long cheer erupts from the crowd." She shakes her head, chuckling.
"Oh my god," he said, already seeing some of what's coming. He tried not to laugh. She mock-scowled at him anyway. He laughed harder. Dawn still looked a bit confused.
"What?" Faith holds up her hand, gesturing for patience.
"So the loudspeaker announces what happened: 3-run homer, Sox win." He and Dawn both laugh, Faith chuckles for a bit. "I cheer, still mad for missing it though. The leech groans. I look down, like 'What?' Know what he says?" She takes another sip, dragging out the moment.
He began tapping his foot loudly. Dawn snorted, laughing. Faith fought a smile, narrowed her eyes. She looked under the table at it, like it was a bug. She stepped not soft but not hard onto the foot, trapped it there. He raised an eyebrow, cocked his head. She matched him. The three of them laugh again. Neither of them felt a need to move their feet.
"So, crowd's screaming, everybody going nuts, I'm about to send this vamp to the great dust-buster in the sky so I can celebrate, and he's whining and groaning all sudden-like. 'What?' I say. 'I'm a Yankees fan,'" mocking the vamp's 'woeful' voice.
They busted out laughing again. She paused, continued. "I ask him, shocked, 'From Boston?' 'Born and bred' he says. I'm like 'What?' I hit him extra hard with the blunt end first three times, then slammed the stake home. Wished I coulda dusted him twice. Frickin' Frontrunner."
Again, they laughed. He could picture the whole thing. He always liked learning a little bit more about Faith's past, even just as an anecdote. Filling out more of that puzzle wrapped in an enigma covered in a conundrum that was Faith.
Faith ate more of her fries; started another short story X already heard during a stake-out. Dawn was enthused though.
He did like watching her connect with Dawn. The two of them have such a vibe going, people often thought that Faith was Dawnie's older sister. Which didn't say much for the Buffster, who never really seemed to want to be around her family. He sighed. One thing he knew was that family, especially a good family, is important.
But Dawn and Faith seemed to have really started to bond. Just like he and Dawnie did when he visited them often during last summer. Dawn Patrol and Miss Summers were worried sick, and he tried to do his best to alleviate it. He still popped over every so often, and babysat Dawn when he could, just so she'd know he wouldn't forget about her, that she still mattered.
He grinned brightly. Enjoying thinking about his favorite girls. He wondered how would Faith react to being called "his." He chuckled internally. *Like being a demon-hunting secret agent apparently just ain't living quite dangerously enough.* Speaking of which.
He tapped his wrist twice above his wristwatch. Faith noticed, but didn't show that she noticed. It was almost that time.
******
Later that evening, SHS Library
For the second time today, he heard that distinct double-ring. Fortunately, Buffy had left sometime before and Oz, in his wolf form, was pacing restlessly in his cage. Again, he picked it up before the second ring, engaged in the security checks and awaited the click before speaking.
"Two in one day? This must be some kind of record." He was tired.
"Droll as usual, 013." M again.
"Well, if you do not recall, I am in the middle of yet another apocalypse."
"What is the status on that situation? Would you require a team sent just in case?"
He considered it for a moment, debated his options.
"That's all right M, I believe my people can handle it, though it may be close."
"All the same, 013, but I will send a team anyway as a precaution. They will maintain standby status and monitor the proceedings."
He sighed, recognizing a good idea when he heard it, rather then an attempt to undermine him. It would be nice knowing help is a button-push away, for once.
"That would be fine, M. Normal emergency protocols then?"
"Quite right, Mr. Giles. Also, there is something else. Our sources have uncovered another nugget of information that might be of interest."
"Oh really," He was curious, despite himself.
"We have obtained the identity of your replacement from the Council."
He groaned. The Jhe situation was enough of a debacle, much less having to deal with this down the line.
"Who is it? Anyone I know?"
"We are not quite sure, you did walk in similar circles with his father."
"Father?" He mentally ran down the list of likely candidates with that fact in mind. It led him to one possible conclusion.
"Oh no. Not Wyndbag-Price the Second?"
"Well, you got it in one, Mr. Giles, though the certainly. colorful moniker was a bit more than we need, or had."
"Well, he was a bit of a pompous nancy-boy, I tended to minimize most of my contact with the both of them, only when I needed his similarly pretentious, yet well-connected father as an absolute last resort. His inclusion in the higher echelon was always considered Nepotism of the worst sort."
"That does match what we have on him as well. He did slip off our radar a few years back, however."
"From what I heard, it was not important, just some type of wilderness retreat for Blue Bloods. The rumor was he met a girl there and decided to stay awhile. His father was not pleased."
"All right then. I will have some more digging done for you. The report will be out to you by mid-day."
"Thank you. I will look over it once the Hellmouth debacle has finished. Anything else?"
"That is all for now, Mr. Giles. Have a pleasant evening.
"You too, M. Cheers."
******
East side residence, Midnight.
Pop-Pow!
"Ahhhh!" Thump!
Thunk-Whoosh.
She smirked under her mask and stood.
As long as she lived, she never tired of the sound of a stake slamming home and a vamp going poof. The Wicked 2 strikes again; so fast, so sudden, and they were on top of the nest before the vamps knew what hit them.
After dropping Baby D off, X mentioned a possible raid. How X knew about this spot was beyond her. Gift horses and everything, right?
And these great toys. This time he'd come up with paintball guns filled with 'special cocktails.' A holy water/Butane party mix, able to hit a vamp in the face or the chest like a Rocket Roger high heater and light them up like Michael Jackson's hair in a Pepsi commercial. Wicked Sweet. She made a couple look like Christmas trees already, before she mercy- staked them.
She put the gun away, wanting to go hand-to-hand with the leftovers. One growled, stepped right up. She jabbed him twice, broke his nose, loosened teeth, snapped his head back. She danced a moment, before jabbing once more. The vamp deflected and fired back, she slipped the first punch, bob- and-weaved under the next, and fired a lightning combo jab-hook-cross, head- body-head, that staggered him to the wall. She danced again; a feature on Ali was on ESPN Classic while she ate breakfast, she took some mental notes.
The vamp bounced off the wall, rushed forward with a lunge. She slipped it again, popped a quick combo, hook-uppercut- cross, left-left-right, that broke his ribs, jaw, and sent him spinning like a top, crashing to the floor. She grinned, pulled her stake, finished him, and looked at X, who was currently in the middle of a clinic.
The vamp, nice and bloody, rushed X, reaching out. X swirled his arm, like he was waxing Mr. Miyagi's car, and wiped away the out-stretched arm then gripped it tight. He yanked the leech in, stomping on the vamp's foot, slamming his elbow into his nose at an angle, and kneeing him in the nuts, all at the same time in one motion. The vamp folded, collapsed to the floor, spread-eagle, very dazed. She could see the elbow-shot had rammed the nose directly into his brain. 'Death' shots like that take a moment for bloodsuckers to recover from. And X knew that. Still, he picked up the gun, and fired a paintball right at the vamp's nuts. Over the screams, she could hear the sizzling. X winced in sympathy. She chuckled.
"Good one, fresh roasted nuts, huh?" She could see him smile under the mask, heard that laugh she lo. liked so much.
"Ha ha, Gypsy girl." he reached into his backpack, pulling out the extra- duffle. He tossed it to her. "Your turn?"
"No problem, Nemo." She turned toward the steps, darting upstairs. They made a point not to use real names during 'ops,' as he called them. Maintaining the mystery, he said. He reminded her of Linda in that way. What good is a secret identity if you just broadcast to any Tom, Dick or Lestat within hearing range? She saw what that did for Buffy.
She liked the name he picked for her, though.
She liked being mysterious.
******
He watched her until she disappeared to the second floor, appreciating the view not for the first time. And not for the first time, he had to remind himself to slow down. That it wasn't the time yet. She'd become so important in practically every facet of his life, and to risk that.
He remembered what happened with Cordy, bearing the brunt of her anger almost every day was great for his short-term memory. He sighed, turned his attention to the still-moaning Hostile, who had writhed his way to lying in the fetal position against the wall, rocking slowly. He needed Intel, and fast, before Faith came back. She already had enough going on her plate. Tonight had weakened the threat, but not completely.
He pulled back his sleeve and fired a bolt right in the Hostile's upper right chest. The vamp recoiled, flopping like a fish. The screams increased.
"I'm going to ask you this once." He paused, crouching to make eye contact.
The vamp looked up, eyes tearing, and whimpered. He nodded his agreement.
"Tomorrow night, who is the leader, the 'quarterback'?"
The vamp's eyes widened. Xander moved his arm, pointing the wrist launcher directly at the vamp's terrified face. The point of the bolt lined up perfectly, staring into the hostile's eye. The hostile looked at Xander in naked fear, who raised an eyebrow still visible beneath the balaclava. The vamp shut his eyes and whispered a name.
"O'Toole."
******