Chapter 20
Who to Trust?
Sunnydale – May 24th
"Miss Summers?" a voice drifted in from the dark. "Miss Summers?" Buffy cracked an eyelid, and a blurry figured swam before her eyes. She felt a bit nauseous. She tried to recall where she was. "Miss Summers," the voice said again, "It's Mister Giles for you."
Buffy blinked her eyes again and the image before her came into focus. It was a man she didn't recognize holding a cell phone. He lifted the phone up to her ear. "Hello," she said thickly.
"Buffy?" Giles voice floated across to her.
"Giles?" she asked, fighting through disorientation.
"Oh thank God!" he exclaimed. "Buffy, listen to me. You've been rescued," Giles said urgently. "The men you're with work for the watcher's council. They're pretty unorthodox, but you can trust them; at least as much as we can trust anyone."
Buffy licked her lips and tried to focus. "Xander?"
"He's fine," Giles said. "He called a few minutes ago. He's got the file and he's bringing it to me. We'll regroup in Sunnydale."
"Okay." Buffy was silent for a moment. "Giles?"
"Yes, Buffy?" Giles said warmly.
"Giles, we saw something there. There were demons …" she said slowly.
"Xander told me," Giles said. "We'll talk about it more when you get here. For now, just rest. You need to recover your strength."
"Okay," she said, and then fell back to sleep.
* * *
Towards sunset, Xander walked into the Magic Box carrying the file. "Where's Buffy?" he asked. "Is she okay?"
Giles walked around the counter, cleaning his glasses as he went. "She hasn't arrived here, but I wouldn't worry. They may have gone to Madame LaFusce first." It was clear that Giles was disturbed, though.
Anya came around and threw her arms around Xander. "Hey sweetie, I'm so glad you're home." She kissed him several times. "I was so worried about you. When I heard what had happened, I was afraid that I might not see you again. And I didn't know what I'd do without you. I mean, who would I see in the morning? And who would I kiss goodnight? And who would leave his boxer shorts on the couch? Or put empty milk cartons back in the fridge?" She took a breath to continue, but Xander stopped her babbling with a kiss.
Giles deftly took the folder from Xander's hand and brought it over to the table. Willow and Tara gathered around to see what was inside it. The first page was the mysterious warning: Beware the Ring of Arinoth.
"Well, that's interesting," Giles muttered.
"It makes sense," Tara said. "I mean, if it can show him for what he really is, then he should beware of it, right?"
"Only we made an amulet, not a ring," Willow said.
"Quite," Giles said. He pondered the message and then looked at the next pages: the clinic request. "This is interesting, but I'm not sure why it's here."
He passed it to Willow, who looked at it briefly. She flipped back and forth between the two pages, and then handed it to Tara. Tara looked at it, and then compared it to the first page. "The fax number," she said.
"What?" Giles asked, looking up from the third set of papers.
"The first page has the number of the fax machine that sent it printed on the top, see? That's the same number as the clinic." Tara pointed out the numbers.
"Good catch," Willow said. "You're so smart."
"You're the smart one," Tara said shyly.
"Yes, well, anyway," Giles said, interrupting them. "This last set appears to be written in ancient Etruscan – phonetically so, at any rate. I'll need to grab a couple of references to translate it. Excuse me." Giles walked off to the back of the shop where his personal books were kept.
"What now?" Anya asked.
"We wait," Willow said. Everyone looked at one another uncomfortably.
* * *
Captain MacKenzie sat on the edge of a bed, watching as Major Sheffield paced back and forth in the small room. He had been ordered up here, alone, as soon as they arrived back at the safehouse. Sheffield had kept him waiting for nearly thirty minutes, undoubtedly while he consulted Madame LaFusce. Sheffield finally turned and faced him, his arms crossed across his chest. He stared at Mac.
"You're moving pretty limber, Major," Mac observed. "Did you finally let the lass cast her spell on you?"
"Do not speak," Sheffield said quietly, his voice backed with steel. "You do not get to speak."
"Is that a yes, then?" Mac was unmoved by the threats. "How many other spells has she been casting on you, lad?"
"Do not push me," Sheffield warned.
"Let me guess," Mac continued. "She gave you a wee spell to find the Slayer, didn't she? Something the rest of us aren't supposed to know about." He nodded as he saw Sheffield's jaw clench. "You've grown to like it, haven't you? And now you canna make a move without consulting her." He nodded at the Major with pity, not anger.
Sheffield turned and walked out of the room.
* * *
"What I don't understand is," Xander was saying to the group, still waiting for Giles to return with his translation.
Anya seized his arm and pointed accusingly at the handcuff, still bound to his wrist. "Where'd you get this?" she asked angrily.
"Courtesy of the San Francisco PD," he said, smiling embarrassedly. "Honestly, I hear everyone's going to wearing them next year."
"I don't see how that could be," Anya said, pursing her lips.
"What?" replied Xander. "I told you, I was standing in the conference room waiting for Buffy – "
"Not that," she replied, rolling her eyes. "The part about everyone wearing them. I mean, what actually goes with stainless steel?" She cast about the table looking for suggestions from the others. Willow and Tara shook their heads. "See, nothing. Well, there was this one outfit I saw in the court of Louis XIV. There was a lot of vengeance going on at that time; I was very busy."
"Anyway," Willow interrupted. "You were saying Xander?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, and mouthed the words Thank You back at his friend. He loved Anya with all his heart, but even he knew not to let her get on a roll about how things were in the Renaissance. "What I don't get is how come we never meet friendly demons. All the ones we meet are like Godzilla with PMS."
"Godzilla was a girl?" Dawn asked from behind him. They all turned to see her come and sit down. "What? Mom said I could down here," she said defensively. Her eyes shifted around the room. "Where's Spike?" she asked.
Everyone looked around uncomfortably. None of them were willing to break the news to her. They all knew she was fond of him for some bizarre reason. Even Xander, who hated Spike, wouldn't injure Dawn with a callous remark about the vampire's death. "Last we knew, he was at Giles' place," he said diplomatically.
"Oh, okay," she said, smiling. "So, you met some friendly demons? That musta been pretty rad."
"Odd is more like it," Xander said, warming at the chance to get back to his original subject. "But I just can't figure it."
"Well, they're a lot smarter than us, you know," Anya said.
"No way," Willow protested. "We had Einstein," she said, nodding at her point.
"Yeah," Tara joined in, "and DaVinci."
"And Stan Lee," Xander added.
"Stanley who?" Dawn asked.
"Not Stanley," Xander replied. "Stan Lee." He used his hands to indicate that it was two separate words. The women at the table stared at him blankly. "You know, he invented Spider-Man. The guy's a genius."
"Oh," Anya said, "comic book reference. Adolescent male serial fantasy magazines." She nodded with her mastery of the subject. "But that's not what I mean. I just mean that they're smarter than us, living here in Sunnydale and all. I mean, who would actually choose to live near a hellmouth? Most of your peaceful species of demons live elsewhere. Many live in large cities like L.A., New York and Cleveland."
"Cleveland?" Dawn asked. "Isn't that where the river caught fire?"
"Oh, that," relied Anya, waving her hand dismissively. "Honestly, I told Molof that he couldn't keep draining his bath house into the river. I mean, between the slime devils and the Bilnoks, it's no wonder the thing just didn't spontaneously combust."
"Cleveland. Huh." Xander was impressed.
"So, you're saying that if we went to a big city, we might run into some nice, friendly demons instead of the mean, man-isn't-the-top-of-the-food-chain ones we get here?" Willow was trying to find something upbeat to think about. "That might be a change of pace."
"Well, you'd do better in the Amazon jungle, really," Anya replied back. "I mean, you could run into some nice demons in a city, but they have just as many evil ones as we do. The problem is that near a hellmouth, the good ones don't stand a chance. There's always somebody out there ready to kill you on sight."
"Hey, doesn't Cleveland have a Hellmouth?" Tara asked.
"It does now," Anya answered, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, it totally ruined the neighborhood when it opened. These days a friendly demon wouldn't be caught dead there." She paused. "No, actually, the only way they would be caught would be dead, because that's what happens to friendlies around a hellmouth."
"What caused it to open?" Willow inquired. "I mean, we know why the one in Sunnydale opened – the Mayor did it a hundred years ago."
"Well," Anya began, launching into a good rumor-fest, "some people think it was the Drew Carey show. You know, focusing all that attention on the space. But I don't think that's true. I think it was a government experiment gone awry." She nodded with confidence.
* * *
Buffy woke slowly from a deep sleep. The same man who she saw in the car was sitting on the edge of her bed. She blinked several times, trying to focus. Being the Slayer, her body recovered more readily than most people would; that's why she caught a glimpse of the medic putting a syringe away in his case. Buffy crinkled her brow trying to understand it.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"Staging area," he said. "We're just about ready to begin the operation."
"Operation?" she asked, confused. "I'm not sick."
The medic smiled. "No, Operation: Demon Strike. We're getting ready to go after the jornikof. You're our star player, so it's time to get up and shake away the cobwebs." Buffy began to sit up, but her stomach rebelled. "Easy there," the medic said, putting an arm around her. "The nausea will pass in a moment. It's a common side effect."
"Side effect of what?" she asked.
"The sedative," he said. "You took a nasty electrical shock. We sedated you so that you could heal." He smiled his most charming smile.
"I heal fine on my own," she relied coldly, pushing his arm off her shoulder. She looked about the room. It was plain, having only two beds and several backpacks lined up against one wall. She attempted sitting again, and with a force of will kept her stomach. Right about that time, two people entered the room.
The old woman she knew only too well: Madame LaFusce. The other one was clearly a soldier, and by the way the medic jumped up and saluted, he was the one in charge. The medic grabbed his bag and walked out of the room.
"You shouldn't have done anything without my permission," Madame LaFusce began harshly. "You could have ruined everything! You stupid girl. If you weren't the Slayer, I'd have left you in that stinking pen." She paced the room briefly, visibly bringing herself under control.
"This is Major Sheffield," she said abruptly, introducing the soldier. "He is in charge of the operation tonight. You will obey him. Clear?"
"Crystal," Buffy replied without enthusiasm. Her eyes shot daggers at the old Frenchwoman as she stormed out. Someday soon, she was going to put that woman in her place.
The Major cleared his throat to get her attention. "We roll in one hour," he said. "We need to get you briefed and outfitted. Then we go get this demon." His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was an underlying eagerness to it that made Buffy uncomfortable. He turned to leave.
"Can I see that other officer," she asked suddenly. "The one who talked to me during the rescue? The Irish guy."
"That would be Captain MacKenzie," Sheffield replied stiffly. "He's Scottish, not Irish."
"Sorry," Buffy replied, slightly embarrassed.
"No matter," Sheffield replied. "They're all the same anyway." He paused a moment while he wrestled his control back into place. "But the answer is no, you cannot speak to him."
"Why not?" Buffy asked, standing to show she wasn't afraid of the grizzled old soldier. "I'm the star here, aren't I?" she challenged.
Sheffield sniffed at her dismissively. "Just follow orders, and we'll get along fine, missy. And as for Mac, he's been relieved of duty and is no longer a part of this mission."
Sheffield turned abruptly and left the room, leaving Buffy more confused than before. What, she wondered again, is going on here?
