A Slayer in Section
By Shailynn
Author's Notes: Alright, in Buffy the Vampire Slayer terms, this takes place sometime after Spike got the chip in his head and joined up with the scoobies. Everything from the end of season four up to season seven can be completely ignored, however, as it has no place in this particular work of fiction. Buffy and Cordelia are now about twenty two years old, and are dating, respectively, Spike and Angel. They've grown quite close, and Buffy heads down to L.A. fairly often to help with demon slayage, or just to hang. I do have the back-story, where all of this happens, lying around somewhere, but it will be awhile before I dig it up. All you need to know to understand the story, however, is that Spike is good, chipless, and in love with Buffy, and Angel's soul is a permanent fixture, leaving him free to explore a relationship with Cordy.
As far as La Femme Nikita... it's been awhile since I watched the show, but this story is placed before Nikita is revealed as a spy, and therefore before Madeline's death and Walter's temporary retirement.
Any questions can be directed to me at shailynn_21@yahoo.com mailto:shailynn_21@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for now... I doubt it will go any higher
Pairings: B/S C/A N/M
*************
"We've now lost three operatives in less than a week in Los Angeles," Madeline said quietly, looking intently at Paul. "We still have no indication of who or what took them out."
"They were all out alone. From now until our teams are done in L.A., have them remain in groups of no less than three. When they are not working on the mission, I want them looking for answers. I want to know what happened to our people."
"I'll let Michael know," Madeline promised.
"See that you do."
***
"Nikita, where are you going?" Michael asked quietly, as he watched Nikita slip into her black leather jacket.
"Out," she answered succinctly.
"I'll go with you," he offered immediately.
"That's not necessary," Nikita dismissed him.
"You heard our orders."
"I'm going with Irene and Liz," Nikita said, her eyes laughing gently at him.
"Oh." Michael said no more, but Nikita could sense just a touch of hurt in his eyes. She smiled at him, and squeezed his arm.
"Thank you for offering, though. We're just going to do some shopping... I didn't think you'd be interested."
"Of course," Michael agreed.
Nikita picked up her purse, leaving her hotel room to Michael.
On the main floor lobby, she met up with the other two from Section, the aforementioned Irene and Liz.
Irene was a slender, but muscular, Chinese girl, about twenty-one years old. Her dark hair was cut to just above her shoulders, and she typically wore it clipped back off her face. She was a calm, serene presence, someone who had long since made peace with her place in Section. She was an excellent profiler- nearing Madeline's own expertise- and dabbled a little in cracking codes. She was nowhere near as ruthless as Section's second-in-command, however, and so would probably never rise higher than her current status as a level three operative. Nikita enjoyed her company, finding her a breath of fresh air among Section's gloomy operatives.
Liz, on the other hand, was nearly the perfect operative-ruthless almost to the extreme. She had no scruples about killing anyone, innocent or not, and was equally as callous in regards to the lives of her fellow operatives. This cold-blooded behavior was the sole reason that she was only a level two. At thirty-three years old, she'd been with Section for almost ten years. Her tall, lean figure, with close-cropped auburn hair and cold green eyes was a common sight on missions where the probability of both Section and innocent deaths was high. Nikita did not particularly care for Liz, and consented to bring her along on their off-duty time only because Irene had begged. Irene was a bit of an optimist, even after four years in Section, and still hoped she'd be able to change Liz for the better.
So, together, they set out to shop L.A.
Nikita was heralded in Section for her unique, modern style. She was one of a select few who ever went without the customary black. Even her coloring- pale blonde hair and vivid blue eyes- was a burst of color in the dark world of Section. So while Liz and Irene shuffled through blacks, and, to a lesser degree, grays and whites, Nikita bustled through the various boutiques, pushing though a veritable rainbow of colors, and buying only what she deemed suitably her.
They'd shopped for no less than three hours when Irene suggested they stop for a coffee at one of the sidewalk cafés. It was already dark by this time, but the Section-trained women didn't have much to fear from common thieves.
Nikita and Liz settled for Starbucks coffee, but Irene saw a little specialty coffee shop just a few doors down. Nikita kept one eye on her, as she ordered her own drink.
They seemed to come from the shadows, Nikita decided later, after she'd had time to think about it. Two young men, dressed in hideously outdated clothes. She was sure she hadn't seen them before-who could miss those costumes? And yet, in the blink of an eye they were on either side of Irene.
"Liz!" Nikita said warningly. "Let's move!" Liz took a defensive position, watching Nikita's back, while still remaining relatively unobtrusive to those other people around. Nikita walked towards Irene, her pace quickening as she saw one of the two men move even closer to the girl, putting an arm around her shoulders. Nikita smiled in grim satisfaction as Irene slipped out of the grasp, bending at her knees and driving her elbow into his groin. Nikita got close enough to interfere with the second man's attack on Irene.
Nikita drove the palm of her hand into his face, slamming hard into his nose and driving upwards with as much force as she could muster. Blood gushed from the wound, but he seemed to suffer no further damage. Nikita sighed internally, deciding that she must have come in from the wrong angle; she's used the same move on other opponents, killing them almost instantly. Nikita took a quick glance, to see Irene struggling with the much-larger man. She shot a look at Liz, and then jerked her head towards Irene, ordering the other woman to help her out. While her attention was focused on this exchange, the man with whom she was fighting punched her, hard, in the stomach. Nikita went sprawling onto the ground. While she was gasping for breath, the man kicked her, hard, in the ribs. Nikita wheezed, as she was flipped violently over onto her side. She looked in horror as she saw Liz, her neck broken, lying on the cement. The first man-why were his eyes glowing yellow? And what was wrong with his face?-had Irene bent over, and his mouth was to her throat. Nikita struggled to get to her feet-a painful task, given the broken ribs she was sure she had. She almost screamed when the guy who'd already pounded her was suddenly in front of her, his face now as odd as his companion's. Her eyes widened in dread as he came closer to her. She backed up. Suddenly, though, he was gone. Nikita started coughing as a sudden cloud of dust whirled around her. She blinked, and saw a small, slender blonde standing right in front of her, holding a wooden stick.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her green eyes concerned.
"My friend," Nikita wheezed.
The girl turned quickly, her eyes focusing on the Chinese girl, who was now laying on the ground. A tall brunette was punching the young guy.
"Cordy's taking care of that guy," the blonde assured her. "Let me go see how your friend is." She walked over to Irene, and crouched down beside her. Nikita saw her shoulders slump, her face fall. "I'm sorry," she called softly to Nikita, her voice low with pain. "There's nothing I can do for her."
Nikita sighed. She hated this part of her job. Well, she thought, at least I can take out one of the bastards who did this. She turned to find him, but saw, instead, the brunette, dusting herself off.
"Where'd he go?" she demanded.
"I guess he realized he was outnumbered," the girl called Cordy shrugged. "He ran off before I could stop him." Nikita didn't miss the knowing look that passed between the two girls.
"I have to go after them," Nikita insisted. She took a step, wincing at the intense pain. "Which way did he go?" she demanded.
"You're in no shape to go anywhere," the blonde rebuked her.
"I have no choice," Nikita snapped. "He killed my friends."
"And that's really shitty. Believe me, I know." The girls eyes softened slightly. "But you can't go after him alone. You're injured. Even when you weren't, he beat the shit out of both your friends, and his pal did the same to you."
"If you don't want to tell me, just say so," Nikita said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll find him myself." She turned her back on the two slowly, and started to make her painful way down the street, keeping an intent eye on everything she passed.
"Damn it!" She heard one of the girls swear, then heard the light patter as she jogged towards her.
"Are you a cop, or a detective or something? Cause you're sure as stupid as one." It was the brunette. "And I work for one, so I know that for a fact. Why don't you come with us? Rest up for a bit, start healing. We can start looking for the guys who killed your friends."
Nikita tried to answer, but sudden nausea rose violently, causing her to retch. She almost fell, and would have, had Cordy not caught her.
"Buffy, get my phone outta my bag would you? Get Angel to come pick us up." Ahh. At last the blonde had a name.
"I have to call my other friends," Nikita ventured quietly, trying to extricate herself from Cordelia. "They'll be worried."
"Can it wait till we get back?" Cordy asked, her eyes mournful. "I've used up almost all of my minutes for this month, and there's still another week to go."
"Of course," Nikita agreed.
When Cordy had asked Buffy to call Angel, Nikita had seen a picture of a sweet, pretty girl in her head. Instead, a tall, dark, and broodingly handsome guy pulled up in a convertible. As Buffy and Cordy loaded Nikita into the car, Angel moved over to study the bodies. "We need to leave," he told her gently.
"Yes," she answered softly. "But... don't we have to call the police, or an ambulance or something?"
"I already did," Angel told her, his voice slightly sorrowful. "But this kind of case... it gets put aside real quick."
"Do I need to stay here, to give a statement or something?" Nikita asked.
"That won't be necessary. Buffy and Cordelia saw most of what happened. As I said, this is pretty common around here. They probably couldn't get a whole lot more from you than they already know."
"Sorry," Cordelia broke in sympathetically. "It's a shitty way to go." She was holding Nikita's numerous purchases, as well as those belonging to Liz and Irene. "I thought you'd want these," she volunteered, when she saw Nikita looking questioningly at them.
"Thanks."
After they reached the hotel-the building that housed Angel Investigations as well as the owner-Nikita was led into a small office, and given free use of the phone. She welcomed the privacy.
She dialed the number to Michael's cell phone, a number she'd long had memorized. As usual, he picked up on the first ring.
"Yes." The word was both question and statement, an acknowledgement that he was there and an inquiry as to the caller's desire. It was simple at face value, but had hidden depths to it.
"Michael," Nikita said, her voice struggling to remain even. To all the rest of the world she could be utterly composed, no matter the circumstance; for Michael, however, her tough façade had a tendency to crack.
"Nikita. What's wrong?" he asked.
"Liz and Irene were taken out," she said quietly.
"How?" Michael demanded.
"Two men, early twenties. They approached Irene when she was buying a coffee. I was just a few feet away. When Liz and I moved in to help, they attacked us, too. Liz's neck was broken. I'm not sure how Irene died."
"Why not?"
"Two young women arrived on scene and offered assistance. I was down with broken ribs, and I missed the fight, but they apparently managed to scare off our two assailants."
"Where are you?"
"At a place called Angel Investigations."
"I'll come by in twenty minutes to pick you up." He paused. "Try to talk with them, and see if you can get anything out of them. Don't be obvious."
"Of course." She paused. "The bodies are being retrieved by the local police. If you could call house keeping?"
"I will."
"Thank you Michael. I'll see you soon."
Nikita hung up, and then stood gingerly, before hobbling out of the room. She paused at the end of the hallway, as she heard the distinctive voices of the two girls who'd rescued her.
"They were both pretty young, fairly new to the game. Not too hard to take out really." It was the blonde, Buffy, speaking.
"I even got me one!" Nikita half-smiled at the proud note in Cordelia's voice.
"It really sucks that they killed two people, though," Buffy sighed. "If only we'd gotten there sooner."
"You went as quick as you could," Angel assured her, so quietly Nikita barely caught his words. "There was something a little off about those women, however. I don't know if you noticed, but the one with the broken neck had a gun. I checked for a badge or something, but I didn't find anything-not even any I.D. She had some money in a wallet, but no personal items. The other girl had a few cosmetics in her purse, but, again, no I.D."
"And the detective is in the house," Cordy said teasingly.
"Just be careful," Angel suggested, pointedly ignoring the brunette.
"Anyway," Buffy broke in, clearly trying to change the subject before Nikita came into the room, "What do you want for dinner? I've worked up a big appetite... busy night and all. And this is my last week in L.A."
Deciding that she could learn nothing else from eavesdropping, Nikita walked down the hall to join her little band of rescuers.
They all looked up as she approached, walking slowly.
Buffy smiled sympathetically. "We have a first aid kit; d'you want me to wrap your ribs?"
"That would be wonderful," Nikita sighed gratefully.
As Buffy bustled behind the counter, retrieving a substantial amount of first aid equipment, Cordy observed her calmly. "Did you get a hold of your friend?" she asked.
"Yes, I did. He'll be here to pick me up in about twenty minutes." She quickly pulled off her shirt, as Buffy approached with the bandages.
They sat, chatting quietly, for a few minutes while Buffy finished wrapping Nikita's ribs. A buzzer let them know that Michael had arrived. Cordelia trotted off to answer the door, and returned a moment later, Michael in tow.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, crossing the room to stand in front of Nikita.
"I'll be fine," she assured him.
"Thank you so much for your help," Nikita said, smiling at the small group around her. She stood up, leaning on Michael's arm. Her brow furrowed for a moment, and she asked, "How did you manage to scare them away? I mean... me and my friends are no pushovers, but we didn't stand a chance."
Buffy and Cordelia exchanged a quick glance, before Buffy answered. "We've taken a lot of martial arts classes, and self-defense stuff. We may not be pros, but we can take care of ourselves."
Nikita gave a half-nod, indicating that she understood, while, internally, she knew how false that statement rang. She, herself, was quite efficient as a hand-to-hand combatant, but those guys were strong!
"Do you have a number where we can reach you if we have any further questions?" Angel asked, looking intently at the pair.
"Of course," Nikita nodded. "Do you have some paper?"
Cordelia offered her a notepad and a black pen.
Nikita quickly scribbled her name and number down. "Thanks again for your help."
"Our pleasure," Cordelia answered warmly. "We're just sorry we were too late to help your friends."
"We'd really better be going, Nikita," Michael said softly. She nodded.
"Good-bye." Wordlessly, Cordelia held out Nikita's bags, Michael took them, and carried them out to the trunk.
Nikita waited until she was secured in her seat in Michael's care before talking. "I'm really not too sure what to make of them," she offered. "You know my skills as far as hand-to-hand goes, and I barely gave one of those guys a bloody nose. How could two kids scare them off?"
"We'll have to look into it," Michael noted coolly, his gaze focused on the road ahead of him. "When we get back to the hotel, we'll call Section. We'll need to request replacement ops regardless of what we end up doing with them." His eyes flicked briefly over to Nikita, and softened slightly. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Yes," Nikita smiled. "I've had broken ribs before. They hurt like hell, but I'll be better in no time."
They remained silent for the remainder of the trip. Michael offered Nikita his arm to lean on as they re-entered the hotel. Once in their room, he contacted Operations.
"What happened?" the silver haired man demanded sharply. "We just received a report from housekeeping. Two more operatives lost?"
"We were outside a café," Nikita began, "When we were attacked by two men, both in their early twenties. They were both about as tall as me, and they wore really out-dated clothes. They blindsided Irene. I attacked one of them; I barely bloodied his nose before he knocked me down with broken ribs. Liz went to help Irene, and got her neck broken. I'm not sure how Irene died... I missed that part of the fight. The guy I'd attacked returned, I suppose to finish the job. I tried to back away, and almost tripped. When I regained my balance, he was gone, and there was this little blonde girl in front of me. I looked over, and saw a tall brunette fighting the other guy. The blonde-Buffy-checked Irene's body for a pulse, and when I looked over at the brunette again, the guy was gone. They claimed that the two men realized they were "out-numbered" and ran off. When I asked them how they'd managed to scare them off, the insisted that they just had a bit of martial arts training, and managed to hurt them enough to scare them." Nikita paused, sighing. "I'm no slouch when it comes to unarmed combat... but I didn't stand a chance. I don't see how two partially trained kids could scare off two toughs."
"Do you have a location on these two girls?"
"Yes," Nikita nodded. "Cordelia-that's the brunette-works at a place called Angel Investigations, for a private detective named Angel. Buffy was just up visiting; I heard her say she was going back home this week."
"Very well," Operations said calmly. "Michael. Arrange an extraction. You and Nikita will retrieve both girls, and return to Section. I'll send in new operatives to cover you, and the loss of the other operatives."
"Of course," Michael answered smoothly.
"Good. That's all."
Nikita studied Michael's face intently for a moment after their conference ended. "They're just kids," she finally said.
"You weren't much older," Michael reminded her.
"Different persepective," Niktia answered ruefully. "I would like to know the full story though."
"Call them," Michael ordered her, his voice professional, even as his eyes drifted over her with tender devotion. "Arrange a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. We'll pick them up."
Nikita nodded. "I'll call tomorrow morning," she agreed, her voice growing husky."
"How are your ribs?"
"Never better," Nikita smiled, ignoring the dull pain from her cracked ribs, leaning into Michael's embrace.
***
"Good morning. Angel Investigations. We help the helpless." Cordelia forced herself to sound chipper as she answered the phone, though she'd only gotten a scant three hours of sleep the night before and was already feeling the effects. "Oh, hi Nikita! How are you feeling?"
Across the room, Buffy looked up in interest as she caught the name of the caller.
"Nikita's that little lady you rescued last night, is she?" Spike asked, drawing Buffy's attention back to him.
"Yeah," she concurred. "Now shh, I'm trying to listen to Cordy." She held one slender finger in front of his mouth to stop him from talking.
It worked.
Instead of opening his mouth to utter more words, he slowly drew her finger within, teasing the digit with his tongue, drawing lazy patterns from tip to base. Buffy moaned at the sensation, enjoying it for a brief moment before reclaiming her finger. "Stop that," she chided him, before firmly focusing her attention on the phone conversation."
"Today? Sure, that would be fine. Yeah, 1:00 sounds great. Where do you want to meet? Oh... okay. Sure, that would be fine. We'll see you then. Okay. Bye."
"What did she want?" Buffy asked curiously.
"She wants to meet us for lunch, as a kind of thank you for our help last night. She and Michael are gonna pick us up at 1:00."
"Sounds good to me," Buffy shrugged.
"Not to me, pet!" Spike protested. "We were supposed to spend the day together!"
"We'll have all morning," Buffy soothed her lover. "And all night."
"It's not the same," Spike pouted.
"You big baby," Buffy giggled. She leaned down, placing a passionate kiss on his pouting lips.
"You're not getting out of bed tomorrow, love," Spike growled in her ear when she finally drew apart for air."
"You two are insatiable," Cordelia teased, rolling her eyes.
"Us!" Buffy and Spike protested as one. "Look at you and the bloody poofter!"
Cordelia flushed faintly, refusing to respond. "Let's get ready, Buffy," she said, smiling when she saw Spike's expression fall. "If I leave you with her," she pointed out to the bleached vamp, "We'll never get out of here."
"True," Buffy sighed. She placed a tender kiss on Spike's lips, before moving to join the brunette. "Let's go upstairs."
In Cordelia's room-a sort of home-away-from-home, where the seeress often spent the night after working long hours helping Angel-the girls quickly went through their clothes.
"The bags she was carrying were all from fairly expensive stores," Cordelia mused, "But it was all pretty trendy..." She rummaged through her closet for a few moments, before pulling out a few items.
Buffy looked through her own clothes-what little she'd brought on this trip-while Cordelia slipped into her outfit.
"Ooh, nice," Buffy said, admiring the fitted black pants and scoop necked ivory tank her friend had slipped into. "You should put your hair into curlers. I have my hot rollers in the black bag over there if you'd like to use them."
"Thanks," Cordelia said, moving towards the bed where the bag lay. "That dress is so cute," she added a moment later. Buffy wore a summer shift, a delicatre lacy affair, with forget-me-nots patterened along the fabric. "Xander picked it out," Buffy admitted, as she twisted her hair up and off her face. "Ever since he and Anya hooked up, his taste in clothes has improved... he no longer lives for spandex." The girls shared a chuckle, remembering how much he'd always hated shopping in high school.
"So... it's 11:00. What can we do 'til one that won't bore us to death... or ruin our make-up?" Cordelia asked.
Buffy pouted. "If you'd let me stay with Spike, we wouldn't be bored."
"No, we'd just be late," Cordelia laughed. "C'mon, though. I picked up some new nail polish the other day. I've got the perfect color to match your dress."
By Shailynn
Author's Notes: Alright, in Buffy the Vampire Slayer terms, this takes place sometime after Spike got the chip in his head and joined up with the scoobies. Everything from the end of season four up to season seven can be completely ignored, however, as it has no place in this particular work of fiction. Buffy and Cordelia are now about twenty two years old, and are dating, respectively, Spike and Angel. They've grown quite close, and Buffy heads down to L.A. fairly often to help with demon slayage, or just to hang. I do have the back-story, where all of this happens, lying around somewhere, but it will be awhile before I dig it up. All you need to know to understand the story, however, is that Spike is good, chipless, and in love with Buffy, and Angel's soul is a permanent fixture, leaving him free to explore a relationship with Cordy.
As far as La Femme Nikita... it's been awhile since I watched the show, but this story is placed before Nikita is revealed as a spy, and therefore before Madeline's death and Walter's temporary retirement.
Any questions can be directed to me at shailynn_21@yahoo.com mailto:shailynn_21@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for now... I doubt it will go any higher
Pairings: B/S C/A N/M
*************
"We've now lost three operatives in less than a week in Los Angeles," Madeline said quietly, looking intently at Paul. "We still have no indication of who or what took them out."
"They were all out alone. From now until our teams are done in L.A., have them remain in groups of no less than three. When they are not working on the mission, I want them looking for answers. I want to know what happened to our people."
"I'll let Michael know," Madeline promised.
"See that you do."
***
"Nikita, where are you going?" Michael asked quietly, as he watched Nikita slip into her black leather jacket.
"Out," she answered succinctly.
"I'll go with you," he offered immediately.
"That's not necessary," Nikita dismissed him.
"You heard our orders."
"I'm going with Irene and Liz," Nikita said, her eyes laughing gently at him.
"Oh." Michael said no more, but Nikita could sense just a touch of hurt in his eyes. She smiled at him, and squeezed his arm.
"Thank you for offering, though. We're just going to do some shopping... I didn't think you'd be interested."
"Of course," Michael agreed.
Nikita picked up her purse, leaving her hotel room to Michael.
On the main floor lobby, she met up with the other two from Section, the aforementioned Irene and Liz.
Irene was a slender, but muscular, Chinese girl, about twenty-one years old. Her dark hair was cut to just above her shoulders, and she typically wore it clipped back off her face. She was a calm, serene presence, someone who had long since made peace with her place in Section. She was an excellent profiler- nearing Madeline's own expertise- and dabbled a little in cracking codes. She was nowhere near as ruthless as Section's second-in-command, however, and so would probably never rise higher than her current status as a level three operative. Nikita enjoyed her company, finding her a breath of fresh air among Section's gloomy operatives.
Liz, on the other hand, was nearly the perfect operative-ruthless almost to the extreme. She had no scruples about killing anyone, innocent or not, and was equally as callous in regards to the lives of her fellow operatives. This cold-blooded behavior was the sole reason that she was only a level two. At thirty-three years old, she'd been with Section for almost ten years. Her tall, lean figure, with close-cropped auburn hair and cold green eyes was a common sight on missions where the probability of both Section and innocent deaths was high. Nikita did not particularly care for Liz, and consented to bring her along on their off-duty time only because Irene had begged. Irene was a bit of an optimist, even after four years in Section, and still hoped she'd be able to change Liz for the better.
So, together, they set out to shop L.A.
Nikita was heralded in Section for her unique, modern style. She was one of a select few who ever went without the customary black. Even her coloring- pale blonde hair and vivid blue eyes- was a burst of color in the dark world of Section. So while Liz and Irene shuffled through blacks, and, to a lesser degree, grays and whites, Nikita bustled through the various boutiques, pushing though a veritable rainbow of colors, and buying only what she deemed suitably her.
They'd shopped for no less than three hours when Irene suggested they stop for a coffee at one of the sidewalk cafés. It was already dark by this time, but the Section-trained women didn't have much to fear from common thieves.
Nikita and Liz settled for Starbucks coffee, but Irene saw a little specialty coffee shop just a few doors down. Nikita kept one eye on her, as she ordered her own drink.
They seemed to come from the shadows, Nikita decided later, after she'd had time to think about it. Two young men, dressed in hideously outdated clothes. She was sure she hadn't seen them before-who could miss those costumes? And yet, in the blink of an eye they were on either side of Irene.
"Liz!" Nikita said warningly. "Let's move!" Liz took a defensive position, watching Nikita's back, while still remaining relatively unobtrusive to those other people around. Nikita walked towards Irene, her pace quickening as she saw one of the two men move even closer to the girl, putting an arm around her shoulders. Nikita smiled in grim satisfaction as Irene slipped out of the grasp, bending at her knees and driving her elbow into his groin. Nikita got close enough to interfere with the second man's attack on Irene.
Nikita drove the palm of her hand into his face, slamming hard into his nose and driving upwards with as much force as she could muster. Blood gushed from the wound, but he seemed to suffer no further damage. Nikita sighed internally, deciding that she must have come in from the wrong angle; she's used the same move on other opponents, killing them almost instantly. Nikita took a quick glance, to see Irene struggling with the much-larger man. She shot a look at Liz, and then jerked her head towards Irene, ordering the other woman to help her out. While her attention was focused on this exchange, the man with whom she was fighting punched her, hard, in the stomach. Nikita went sprawling onto the ground. While she was gasping for breath, the man kicked her, hard, in the ribs. Nikita wheezed, as she was flipped violently over onto her side. She looked in horror as she saw Liz, her neck broken, lying on the cement. The first man-why were his eyes glowing yellow? And what was wrong with his face?-had Irene bent over, and his mouth was to her throat. Nikita struggled to get to her feet-a painful task, given the broken ribs she was sure she had. She almost screamed when the guy who'd already pounded her was suddenly in front of her, his face now as odd as his companion's. Her eyes widened in dread as he came closer to her. She backed up. Suddenly, though, he was gone. Nikita started coughing as a sudden cloud of dust whirled around her. She blinked, and saw a small, slender blonde standing right in front of her, holding a wooden stick.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her green eyes concerned.
"My friend," Nikita wheezed.
The girl turned quickly, her eyes focusing on the Chinese girl, who was now laying on the ground. A tall brunette was punching the young guy.
"Cordy's taking care of that guy," the blonde assured her. "Let me go see how your friend is." She walked over to Irene, and crouched down beside her. Nikita saw her shoulders slump, her face fall. "I'm sorry," she called softly to Nikita, her voice low with pain. "There's nothing I can do for her."
Nikita sighed. She hated this part of her job. Well, she thought, at least I can take out one of the bastards who did this. She turned to find him, but saw, instead, the brunette, dusting herself off.
"Where'd he go?" she demanded.
"I guess he realized he was outnumbered," the girl called Cordy shrugged. "He ran off before I could stop him." Nikita didn't miss the knowing look that passed between the two girls.
"I have to go after them," Nikita insisted. She took a step, wincing at the intense pain. "Which way did he go?" she demanded.
"You're in no shape to go anywhere," the blonde rebuked her.
"I have no choice," Nikita snapped. "He killed my friends."
"And that's really shitty. Believe me, I know." The girls eyes softened slightly. "But you can't go after him alone. You're injured. Even when you weren't, he beat the shit out of both your friends, and his pal did the same to you."
"If you don't want to tell me, just say so," Nikita said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll find him myself." She turned her back on the two slowly, and started to make her painful way down the street, keeping an intent eye on everything she passed.
"Damn it!" She heard one of the girls swear, then heard the light patter as she jogged towards her.
"Are you a cop, or a detective or something? Cause you're sure as stupid as one." It was the brunette. "And I work for one, so I know that for a fact. Why don't you come with us? Rest up for a bit, start healing. We can start looking for the guys who killed your friends."
Nikita tried to answer, but sudden nausea rose violently, causing her to retch. She almost fell, and would have, had Cordy not caught her.
"Buffy, get my phone outta my bag would you? Get Angel to come pick us up." Ahh. At last the blonde had a name.
"I have to call my other friends," Nikita ventured quietly, trying to extricate herself from Cordelia. "They'll be worried."
"Can it wait till we get back?" Cordy asked, her eyes mournful. "I've used up almost all of my minutes for this month, and there's still another week to go."
"Of course," Nikita agreed.
When Cordy had asked Buffy to call Angel, Nikita had seen a picture of a sweet, pretty girl in her head. Instead, a tall, dark, and broodingly handsome guy pulled up in a convertible. As Buffy and Cordy loaded Nikita into the car, Angel moved over to study the bodies. "We need to leave," he told her gently.
"Yes," she answered softly. "But... don't we have to call the police, or an ambulance or something?"
"I already did," Angel told her, his voice slightly sorrowful. "But this kind of case... it gets put aside real quick."
"Do I need to stay here, to give a statement or something?" Nikita asked.
"That won't be necessary. Buffy and Cordelia saw most of what happened. As I said, this is pretty common around here. They probably couldn't get a whole lot more from you than they already know."
"Sorry," Cordelia broke in sympathetically. "It's a shitty way to go." She was holding Nikita's numerous purchases, as well as those belonging to Liz and Irene. "I thought you'd want these," she volunteered, when she saw Nikita looking questioningly at them.
"Thanks."
After they reached the hotel-the building that housed Angel Investigations as well as the owner-Nikita was led into a small office, and given free use of the phone. She welcomed the privacy.
She dialed the number to Michael's cell phone, a number she'd long had memorized. As usual, he picked up on the first ring.
"Yes." The word was both question and statement, an acknowledgement that he was there and an inquiry as to the caller's desire. It was simple at face value, but had hidden depths to it.
"Michael," Nikita said, her voice struggling to remain even. To all the rest of the world she could be utterly composed, no matter the circumstance; for Michael, however, her tough façade had a tendency to crack.
"Nikita. What's wrong?" he asked.
"Liz and Irene were taken out," she said quietly.
"How?" Michael demanded.
"Two men, early twenties. They approached Irene when she was buying a coffee. I was just a few feet away. When Liz and I moved in to help, they attacked us, too. Liz's neck was broken. I'm not sure how Irene died."
"Why not?"
"Two young women arrived on scene and offered assistance. I was down with broken ribs, and I missed the fight, but they apparently managed to scare off our two assailants."
"Where are you?"
"At a place called Angel Investigations."
"I'll come by in twenty minutes to pick you up." He paused. "Try to talk with them, and see if you can get anything out of them. Don't be obvious."
"Of course." She paused. "The bodies are being retrieved by the local police. If you could call house keeping?"
"I will."
"Thank you Michael. I'll see you soon."
Nikita hung up, and then stood gingerly, before hobbling out of the room. She paused at the end of the hallway, as she heard the distinctive voices of the two girls who'd rescued her.
"They were both pretty young, fairly new to the game. Not too hard to take out really." It was the blonde, Buffy, speaking.
"I even got me one!" Nikita half-smiled at the proud note in Cordelia's voice.
"It really sucks that they killed two people, though," Buffy sighed. "If only we'd gotten there sooner."
"You went as quick as you could," Angel assured her, so quietly Nikita barely caught his words. "There was something a little off about those women, however. I don't know if you noticed, but the one with the broken neck had a gun. I checked for a badge or something, but I didn't find anything-not even any I.D. She had some money in a wallet, but no personal items. The other girl had a few cosmetics in her purse, but, again, no I.D."
"And the detective is in the house," Cordy said teasingly.
"Just be careful," Angel suggested, pointedly ignoring the brunette.
"Anyway," Buffy broke in, clearly trying to change the subject before Nikita came into the room, "What do you want for dinner? I've worked up a big appetite... busy night and all. And this is my last week in L.A."
Deciding that she could learn nothing else from eavesdropping, Nikita walked down the hall to join her little band of rescuers.
They all looked up as she approached, walking slowly.
Buffy smiled sympathetically. "We have a first aid kit; d'you want me to wrap your ribs?"
"That would be wonderful," Nikita sighed gratefully.
As Buffy bustled behind the counter, retrieving a substantial amount of first aid equipment, Cordy observed her calmly. "Did you get a hold of your friend?" she asked.
"Yes, I did. He'll be here to pick me up in about twenty minutes." She quickly pulled off her shirt, as Buffy approached with the bandages.
They sat, chatting quietly, for a few minutes while Buffy finished wrapping Nikita's ribs. A buzzer let them know that Michael had arrived. Cordelia trotted off to answer the door, and returned a moment later, Michael in tow.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, crossing the room to stand in front of Nikita.
"I'll be fine," she assured him.
"Thank you so much for your help," Nikita said, smiling at the small group around her. She stood up, leaning on Michael's arm. Her brow furrowed for a moment, and she asked, "How did you manage to scare them away? I mean... me and my friends are no pushovers, but we didn't stand a chance."
Buffy and Cordelia exchanged a quick glance, before Buffy answered. "We've taken a lot of martial arts classes, and self-defense stuff. We may not be pros, but we can take care of ourselves."
Nikita gave a half-nod, indicating that she understood, while, internally, she knew how false that statement rang. She, herself, was quite efficient as a hand-to-hand combatant, but those guys were strong!
"Do you have a number where we can reach you if we have any further questions?" Angel asked, looking intently at the pair.
"Of course," Nikita nodded. "Do you have some paper?"
Cordelia offered her a notepad and a black pen.
Nikita quickly scribbled her name and number down. "Thanks again for your help."
"Our pleasure," Cordelia answered warmly. "We're just sorry we were too late to help your friends."
"We'd really better be going, Nikita," Michael said softly. She nodded.
"Good-bye." Wordlessly, Cordelia held out Nikita's bags, Michael took them, and carried them out to the trunk.
Nikita waited until she was secured in her seat in Michael's care before talking. "I'm really not too sure what to make of them," she offered. "You know my skills as far as hand-to-hand goes, and I barely gave one of those guys a bloody nose. How could two kids scare them off?"
"We'll have to look into it," Michael noted coolly, his gaze focused on the road ahead of him. "When we get back to the hotel, we'll call Section. We'll need to request replacement ops regardless of what we end up doing with them." His eyes flicked briefly over to Nikita, and softened slightly. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Yes," Nikita smiled. "I've had broken ribs before. They hurt like hell, but I'll be better in no time."
They remained silent for the remainder of the trip. Michael offered Nikita his arm to lean on as they re-entered the hotel. Once in their room, he contacted Operations.
"What happened?" the silver haired man demanded sharply. "We just received a report from housekeeping. Two more operatives lost?"
"We were outside a café," Nikita began, "When we were attacked by two men, both in their early twenties. They were both about as tall as me, and they wore really out-dated clothes. They blindsided Irene. I attacked one of them; I barely bloodied his nose before he knocked me down with broken ribs. Liz went to help Irene, and got her neck broken. I'm not sure how Irene died... I missed that part of the fight. The guy I'd attacked returned, I suppose to finish the job. I tried to back away, and almost tripped. When I regained my balance, he was gone, and there was this little blonde girl in front of me. I looked over, and saw a tall brunette fighting the other guy. The blonde-Buffy-checked Irene's body for a pulse, and when I looked over at the brunette again, the guy was gone. They claimed that the two men realized they were "out-numbered" and ran off. When I asked them how they'd managed to scare them off, the insisted that they just had a bit of martial arts training, and managed to hurt them enough to scare them." Nikita paused, sighing. "I'm no slouch when it comes to unarmed combat... but I didn't stand a chance. I don't see how two partially trained kids could scare off two toughs."
"Do you have a location on these two girls?"
"Yes," Nikita nodded. "Cordelia-that's the brunette-works at a place called Angel Investigations, for a private detective named Angel. Buffy was just up visiting; I heard her say she was going back home this week."
"Very well," Operations said calmly. "Michael. Arrange an extraction. You and Nikita will retrieve both girls, and return to Section. I'll send in new operatives to cover you, and the loss of the other operatives."
"Of course," Michael answered smoothly.
"Good. That's all."
Nikita studied Michael's face intently for a moment after their conference ended. "They're just kids," she finally said.
"You weren't much older," Michael reminded her.
"Different persepective," Niktia answered ruefully. "I would like to know the full story though."
"Call them," Michael ordered her, his voice professional, even as his eyes drifted over her with tender devotion. "Arrange a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. We'll pick them up."
Nikita nodded. "I'll call tomorrow morning," she agreed, her voice growing husky."
"How are your ribs?"
"Never better," Nikita smiled, ignoring the dull pain from her cracked ribs, leaning into Michael's embrace.
***
"Good morning. Angel Investigations. We help the helpless." Cordelia forced herself to sound chipper as she answered the phone, though she'd only gotten a scant three hours of sleep the night before and was already feeling the effects. "Oh, hi Nikita! How are you feeling?"
Across the room, Buffy looked up in interest as she caught the name of the caller.
"Nikita's that little lady you rescued last night, is she?" Spike asked, drawing Buffy's attention back to him.
"Yeah," she concurred. "Now shh, I'm trying to listen to Cordy." She held one slender finger in front of his mouth to stop him from talking.
It worked.
Instead of opening his mouth to utter more words, he slowly drew her finger within, teasing the digit with his tongue, drawing lazy patterns from tip to base. Buffy moaned at the sensation, enjoying it for a brief moment before reclaiming her finger. "Stop that," she chided him, before firmly focusing her attention on the phone conversation."
"Today? Sure, that would be fine. Yeah, 1:00 sounds great. Where do you want to meet? Oh... okay. Sure, that would be fine. We'll see you then. Okay. Bye."
"What did she want?" Buffy asked curiously.
"She wants to meet us for lunch, as a kind of thank you for our help last night. She and Michael are gonna pick us up at 1:00."
"Sounds good to me," Buffy shrugged.
"Not to me, pet!" Spike protested. "We were supposed to spend the day together!"
"We'll have all morning," Buffy soothed her lover. "And all night."
"It's not the same," Spike pouted.
"You big baby," Buffy giggled. She leaned down, placing a passionate kiss on his pouting lips.
"You're not getting out of bed tomorrow, love," Spike growled in her ear when she finally drew apart for air."
"You two are insatiable," Cordelia teased, rolling her eyes.
"Us!" Buffy and Spike protested as one. "Look at you and the bloody poofter!"
Cordelia flushed faintly, refusing to respond. "Let's get ready, Buffy," she said, smiling when she saw Spike's expression fall. "If I leave you with her," she pointed out to the bleached vamp, "We'll never get out of here."
"True," Buffy sighed. She placed a tender kiss on Spike's lips, before moving to join the brunette. "Let's go upstairs."
In Cordelia's room-a sort of home-away-from-home, where the seeress often spent the night after working long hours helping Angel-the girls quickly went through their clothes.
"The bags she was carrying were all from fairly expensive stores," Cordelia mused, "But it was all pretty trendy..." She rummaged through her closet for a few moments, before pulling out a few items.
Buffy looked through her own clothes-what little she'd brought on this trip-while Cordelia slipped into her outfit.
"Ooh, nice," Buffy said, admiring the fitted black pants and scoop necked ivory tank her friend had slipped into. "You should put your hair into curlers. I have my hot rollers in the black bag over there if you'd like to use them."
"Thanks," Cordelia said, moving towards the bed where the bag lay. "That dress is so cute," she added a moment later. Buffy wore a summer shift, a delicatre lacy affair, with forget-me-nots patterened along the fabric. "Xander picked it out," Buffy admitted, as she twisted her hair up and off her face. "Ever since he and Anya hooked up, his taste in clothes has improved... he no longer lives for spandex." The girls shared a chuckle, remembering how much he'd always hated shopping in high school.
"So... it's 11:00. What can we do 'til one that won't bore us to death... or ruin our make-up?" Cordelia asked.
Buffy pouted. "If you'd let me stay with Spike, we wouldn't be bored."
"No, we'd just be late," Cordelia laughed. "C'mon, though. I picked up some new nail polish the other day. I've got the perfect color to match your dress."