Chapter Two: Bad Cop Bad Cop
Summary: Buffy and Oz try to persuade Willow and Xander to give out the Master's secrets.
Disclaimer: You know the routine.
Buffy clicked the padlock and secured the chains. She gave it a tug and nodded, content. Oz was sprawled on the couch in the living room, headphones blasting music that the Slayer could hear even from her position down the hall. She leaned at the threshold leading out of the common room and said,
"Knife Party, by Deftones."
Oz turned to her, removing his head set swiftly.
"Sorry it was loud." then his brows knitted. "You know the 'tones?"
"Doesn't everybody?" she shrugged and fell into a single seat, her knee propped over the arm of the chair. She looked around. "Nice place. It's almost homey."
"I have Martha Stewart to thank for that." Oz said, turning off his C.D. Player. He looked to the broad window behind him. "It's nearing dawn. I'm beat. There's a spare room upstairs if you want it. I set out the blankets and pillows already."
"Thanks mom." Buffy teased. Oz flushed and left the Slayer.
"Hey Osborne," she called. The brown haired boy returned, head poking in the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for saving me back there. Even though I coulda taken that Master guy myself."
Oz shrugged.
"Whatever." he was about to leave again when Buffy stood up.
"What's with the Houdini act?"
"What do you mean?"
"You keep disappearing when I try to talk to ya." she punched him on the shoulder. "C'mon, scared of a girl?"
"Terrified," he replied dryly. He sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"
The Slayer shrugged, fingering her nose ring. She leaned against the railing and looked up at Oz.
"Why is this town such a hell hole?"
"Hell Mouth."
"What?"
"Sunnydale is built on a Hell Mouth. The center of evil if you will." Oz said this rotely, remembering all the lessons Giles had bestowed upon him when the Harvest reached its bloody fruition.
"Well that explains the baddies runnin' around like they own the place."
"They do, at night anyway. No one is safe anymore. At six p.m. we all lock our doors and bar our windows. Well, not all of us. Giles and our group, the White Hats, fight when the sun sets. We pull a Clark Kent, mild mannered high school student by day, vampire hunter by night. A lot of good people died since the Master was released."
"Where did he come from? That guy with the kool-aid mustache?"
"He was banished underground for hundreds of years until the Harvest. That night, he escaped his prison and went on a killing spree. My parents didn't even know what hit them." Oz gnashed his teeth. His usually
placid façade was broken by anguish and rage. Buffy looked down, knowing that such a display of emotion shouldn't have an audience. She quickly changed the subject.
"And the two downstairs?"
"Oh, them. They're the Master's favorites. The red head's Willow and the smart ass is Xander. They've killed more of us than the Master has. It's pretty rad that we have them penned up in my basement."
"Got any beer?" Buffy asked. Oz looked at her, knocked off by the sudden change of topic. "Uh, sorry. I'm alcohol free."
"Aren't you a little boy scout." she scoffed, walking into the kitchen. Oz followed her. He sat atop his kitchen counter and watched as the Slayer raided his kitchen. She was cute, in a 'don't-look-at-me-or-I'll -kick-your-ass' kind of way. She wore army fatigues with tall combat boots, strings tightly laced. A simple white halter top showed much of her muscles and tattoos. Her eyes, beautiful emeralds, were lined in heavy eye liner. Rings adorned her fingers, which added precious more hurt to her blows. She seemed almost too emaciated for her line of work, but she proved herself tonight. She did face the Master and survived. Too few can own that claim.
"What about you? Where did you come from? What's this whole Slayer gig?"
Buffy dropped a bottle of Mystic Arbor, the glass shattering and splashing the floor. "Whoa, are you ok?"
Oz hopped off the counter and reached out an arm to Buffy.
"Don't touch me," she said severely. "I-I don't like talking about my past." she walked past him, muttering an apology about the mess and ascended upstairs. Oz looked at the floor and sighed.
"Why don't I get any nice house guests?" he wondered aloud as he bent to clean up the tile floor.
***
They awoke the next morning at eight a.m. Buffy undid the padlock and removed the heavy chains. Going into the basement, they saw Xander and Willow huddled in a corner. They were not cowering like trapped animals, but nursing each other with infusions of each other's dead blood. The pale yellow glow of the naked light bulb was the only source of light in the basement, as the window was draped with a heavy tarp.
"You know, it's not so bad having you vamps here." Oz said, inspecting the basement. "Took care of the rat problem I see." Buffy came past him to sit at the foot of the steps. She watched the two vampires as the undead ones glared at her. The Slayer held a cigarette up and a lit a match using the bottom of her boot. The bright flare made Xander wince. She touched the flame to the cigarette but didn't bring it to her lips.
"These things can kill you." she said, standing up and approaching Xander. She crouched in front of him and pressed the burning end to his cheek, right beneath his right eye. Xander grunted and Willow hissed, trying to claw at the Slayer. Her shackles kept the blond girl safe.
"Wanna tell me where the Master is shacking up?" Buffy asked Xander, holding his face with her hand. The male vampire put on his game face and his feral yellow eyes bore holes into Buffy.
"You'd have better luck telling a gay man that flannel is the new plaid." he chuckled.
"Can I kill her now?" Willow pouted. Xander turned to his mate and took the protruding lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it.
"Don't you want to play with it first?"
"Hello! I'm right here!" Buffy waved. Willow and Xander turned their glowing, aurum eyes on her.
"Oh please, that won't scare me. I have the same contacts in my book bag. Now, once again: where is the Master?"
"Eat me," Willow said seductively. Buffy drew back her arm and cuffed the vampire across the face. The dark haired vamp growled protectively, struggling fiercely against his restraints. Buffy flicked the cancer stick away.
"Obviously this isn't working. Oz, the acid please." the brown haired boy came down the steps, a beaker of green liquid sloshing inside.
"There's no point to this boys and girls." Xander said. "The Master will find us, kill all you White Caps and dance on your bones."
"White *Hats*" Oz corrected, handing the acid to Buffy.
"Whatever," the male vampire made an elaborate head motion. Willow burrowed her pale face into the crevice of his shoulder, smelling the blood-stained leather. She clamped a hand over where the steak used to be and made a pained noise.
"Xander, I'm not feeling spiffy." she whined.
"Now look at what you gone and did." Xander looked at them accusingly. "She's not feeling the spiffiness."
Buffy held up the container.
"I'm about to make her feel a lot worse if you don't tell me what I need to know. Their faces remained defiant. Oz whispered in Buffy's ear.
"Maybe we should separate them, to see if they're lying."
"Should we play Good Cop Bad Cop?" the Slayer asked enthusiastically.
"How 'bout we're both the bad cop?" Oz suggested. Buffy looked meaningfully at the vampire captives. "Sounds chill to me."
Summary: Buffy and Oz try to persuade Willow and Xander to give out the Master's secrets.
Disclaimer: You know the routine.
Buffy clicked the padlock and secured the chains. She gave it a tug and nodded, content. Oz was sprawled on the couch in the living room, headphones blasting music that the Slayer could hear even from her position down the hall. She leaned at the threshold leading out of the common room and said,
"Knife Party, by Deftones."
Oz turned to her, removing his head set swiftly.
"Sorry it was loud." then his brows knitted. "You know the 'tones?"
"Doesn't everybody?" she shrugged and fell into a single seat, her knee propped over the arm of the chair. She looked around. "Nice place. It's almost homey."
"I have Martha Stewart to thank for that." Oz said, turning off his C.D. Player. He looked to the broad window behind him. "It's nearing dawn. I'm beat. There's a spare room upstairs if you want it. I set out the blankets and pillows already."
"Thanks mom." Buffy teased. Oz flushed and left the Slayer.
"Hey Osborne," she called. The brown haired boy returned, head poking in the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for saving me back there. Even though I coulda taken that Master guy myself."
Oz shrugged.
"Whatever." he was about to leave again when Buffy stood up.
"What's with the Houdini act?"
"What do you mean?"
"You keep disappearing when I try to talk to ya." she punched him on the shoulder. "C'mon, scared of a girl?"
"Terrified," he replied dryly. He sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"
The Slayer shrugged, fingering her nose ring. She leaned against the railing and looked up at Oz.
"Why is this town such a hell hole?"
"Hell Mouth."
"What?"
"Sunnydale is built on a Hell Mouth. The center of evil if you will." Oz said this rotely, remembering all the lessons Giles had bestowed upon him when the Harvest reached its bloody fruition.
"Well that explains the baddies runnin' around like they own the place."
"They do, at night anyway. No one is safe anymore. At six p.m. we all lock our doors and bar our windows. Well, not all of us. Giles and our group, the White Hats, fight when the sun sets. We pull a Clark Kent, mild mannered high school student by day, vampire hunter by night. A lot of good people died since the Master was released."
"Where did he come from? That guy with the kool-aid mustache?"
"He was banished underground for hundreds of years until the Harvest. That night, he escaped his prison and went on a killing spree. My parents didn't even know what hit them." Oz gnashed his teeth. His usually
placid façade was broken by anguish and rage. Buffy looked down, knowing that such a display of emotion shouldn't have an audience. She quickly changed the subject.
"And the two downstairs?"
"Oh, them. They're the Master's favorites. The red head's Willow and the smart ass is Xander. They've killed more of us than the Master has. It's pretty rad that we have them penned up in my basement."
"Got any beer?" Buffy asked. Oz looked at her, knocked off by the sudden change of topic. "Uh, sorry. I'm alcohol free."
"Aren't you a little boy scout." she scoffed, walking into the kitchen. Oz followed her. He sat atop his kitchen counter and watched as the Slayer raided his kitchen. She was cute, in a 'don't-look-at-me-or-I'll -kick-your-ass' kind of way. She wore army fatigues with tall combat boots, strings tightly laced. A simple white halter top showed much of her muscles and tattoos. Her eyes, beautiful emeralds, were lined in heavy eye liner. Rings adorned her fingers, which added precious more hurt to her blows. She seemed almost too emaciated for her line of work, but she proved herself tonight. She did face the Master and survived. Too few can own that claim.
"What about you? Where did you come from? What's this whole Slayer gig?"
Buffy dropped a bottle of Mystic Arbor, the glass shattering and splashing the floor. "Whoa, are you ok?"
Oz hopped off the counter and reached out an arm to Buffy.
"Don't touch me," she said severely. "I-I don't like talking about my past." she walked past him, muttering an apology about the mess and ascended upstairs. Oz looked at the floor and sighed.
"Why don't I get any nice house guests?" he wondered aloud as he bent to clean up the tile floor.
***
They awoke the next morning at eight a.m. Buffy undid the padlock and removed the heavy chains. Going into the basement, they saw Xander and Willow huddled in a corner. They were not cowering like trapped animals, but nursing each other with infusions of each other's dead blood. The pale yellow glow of the naked light bulb was the only source of light in the basement, as the window was draped with a heavy tarp.
"You know, it's not so bad having you vamps here." Oz said, inspecting the basement. "Took care of the rat problem I see." Buffy came past him to sit at the foot of the steps. She watched the two vampires as the undead ones glared at her. The Slayer held a cigarette up and a lit a match using the bottom of her boot. The bright flare made Xander wince. She touched the flame to the cigarette but didn't bring it to her lips.
"These things can kill you." she said, standing up and approaching Xander. She crouched in front of him and pressed the burning end to his cheek, right beneath his right eye. Xander grunted and Willow hissed, trying to claw at the Slayer. Her shackles kept the blond girl safe.
"Wanna tell me where the Master is shacking up?" Buffy asked Xander, holding his face with her hand. The male vampire put on his game face and his feral yellow eyes bore holes into Buffy.
"You'd have better luck telling a gay man that flannel is the new plaid." he chuckled.
"Can I kill her now?" Willow pouted. Xander turned to his mate and took the protruding lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it.
"Don't you want to play with it first?"
"Hello! I'm right here!" Buffy waved. Willow and Xander turned their glowing, aurum eyes on her.
"Oh please, that won't scare me. I have the same contacts in my book bag. Now, once again: where is the Master?"
"Eat me," Willow said seductively. Buffy drew back her arm and cuffed the vampire across the face. The dark haired vamp growled protectively, struggling fiercely against his restraints. Buffy flicked the cancer stick away.
"Obviously this isn't working. Oz, the acid please." the brown haired boy came down the steps, a beaker of green liquid sloshing inside.
"There's no point to this boys and girls." Xander said. "The Master will find us, kill all you White Caps and dance on your bones."
"White *Hats*" Oz corrected, handing the acid to Buffy.
"Whatever," the male vampire made an elaborate head motion. Willow burrowed her pale face into the crevice of his shoulder, smelling the blood-stained leather. She clamped a hand over where the steak used to be and made a pained noise.
"Xander, I'm not feeling spiffy." she whined.
"Now look at what you gone and did." Xander looked at them accusingly. "She's not feeling the spiffiness."
Buffy held up the container.
"I'm about to make her feel a lot worse if you don't tell me what I need to know. Their faces remained defiant. Oz whispered in Buffy's ear.
"Maybe we should separate them, to see if they're lying."
"Should we play Good Cop Bad Cop?" the Slayer asked enthusiastically.
"How 'bout we're both the bad cop?" Oz suggested. Buffy looked meaningfully at the vampire captives. "Sounds chill to me."