The Anointed One decided he hated crypts, even underground ones. They were dusty, smelly and crawling with rats although some of the newer minions quickly took care of those. Once the Slayer was dead, they were moving back above ground.
The Slayer. Thoughts of her always put him in a bad mood although he made certain not to show it too often. Temper tantrums from him were none too impressive. He had a feeling they made him look childish. Of course, he was still a child technically and would always remain one. He'd thought that great once upon a time. But the novelty was rapidly fading.
When he went out with his minions (which he did as infrequently as possible), he was painfully aware of the difference between his height and theirs. He had trouble reaching anything above five feet and in commanding minions to fetch and reach things he'd caught fleeting smirks on their faces.
It had been different when the Master had been around. Even being trapped underground hadn't weakened his hold on the vampire community in this town. His height, great age, formidable strength and reputation as the head vampire in Sunnydale had made him feared and respected and, by extension, the Anointed One had come in for his share of that respect.
But thanks to the Slayer the Master was dead and without him the Anointed One was beginning to feel the loyalty of his minions slipping through his fingers. Fewer of them were returning from their nightly feedings. The survivors mumbled about running into the Slayer but the boy suspected that many of them were merely defecting to greener pastures.
He had his vampires creating new ones from among the populace but even that wasn't cutting it. The fledglings didn't know the departed Master's reputation and were unimpressed with the shrimp of a boy they were introduced to as his replacement. A lot of them had to be beaten into submission and even then served only with a sullen ill grace.
Recruiting was also difficult with the Slayer at large. They had had to re-locate to avoid her and the new place wasn't as nice as the old warehouse. Something had to be done about her and the Anointed One had already set his plan in motion. Now if only that dopey minion would return…
The boy looked up as said minion slunk into the cavernous space. "Well?"
Dalton shuffled from side to side. He didn't like the idea of bringing outsiders into the mix—especially these outsiders. "I did what you asked, sir. We got word to the Order of Taraka to take out the Slayer."
He nodded, satisfied. It had been easy getting together the bounty. Over the centuries the Master had amassed quite a store of loot from his human victims: money, jewelry, ancient junk. He'd managed to stash most of it in hidden locations around the world especially Sunnydale. The Anointed One's boys and girls had promised a mere fraction of it to the Order of Taraka if they could deliver the Slayer's head on a plate. That fraction would be enough to entice even the greediest of the bounty hunters.
The former child smiled at the image of the Slayer's blonde head on toast with a side order of eggs. He giggled childishly, ignoring the suddenly puzzled minion. Things were looking up.
Joyce paused in her packing. "Buffy, are you sure you're going to be all right?"
"Mom, for the umpteenth zillionth time, yes! You're only going to be gone until Thursday. You've been away from home longer than that. I can handle it."
"I know. It's just…" Joyce trailed off and waved her hand helplessly. "That was before I found out you were leaving the house at night to battle evil. Going off now for over three days just doesn't feel right. Maybe I should stay and send an assistant."
Buffy sighed, exasperated. "Mom, are you gonna become a homebody forever just 'cause I'm the Slayer? 'Cause that wouldn't be a 'just 'til you're in college, dear' kinda dealie. It would be more of a 'until you're in a retirement home' thing. I really don't think you want to stop being an outdoors person because of me."
"I know that, honey." Joyce sighed and sat on her bed next to the open suitcase. "I just can't help thinking I'm abandoning you. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her only daughter to fight the forces of darkness on her own and runs off to buy artwork, for goodness sakes? I feel like a bad mother."
Buffy sat down beside her mother and clasped one of her hands. "You're not a bad mom. You're doing what you did when you and Dad broke up—trying to pay the bills." Buffy paused and searched her mother's face. They didn't discuss the divorce often. It was still a painful subject for both of them; there were a lot of old wounds there.
"Besides, I'm not alone. I'm got my gang of Superfriends working with me." She grinned as her mother snorted. Then Buffy continued in a gentler voice. "You're not gonna turn into one of those moms who're lovin' the guilt of working while their teenager kids do homework and stuff, are you? 'Cause that would be so fifties of you. You're a working mom and I'm the slaying daughter. We'll make this work. And could I sound any more like a prospective boyfriend?" She gave an exaggerated shudder.
Joyce laughed and squeezed her daughter's hand impulsively. "Thanks, sweetie. That makes me feel so much better." She rose and resumed packing while speaking to her blonde daughter. "I'm calling every day."
"Okay."
"I expect you to be home by a certain hour, slaying or no slaying," she added sternly.
"Gotcha."
"Because if I call here and get no answer—"
"Try calling me at Giles's place. Or Willow's. Or Xander's. Or the library even," Buffy chimed in hurriedly. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to cut her trip short and hurry back. She was hoping to get in quality smoochies with Angel and her mother's absence meant he wouldn't have to tiptoe around the house.
As if reading her mind, her mother paused and cocked her head at her daughter. "And what about Angel? Could I have his number as well?"
Buffy blinked and tried for an innocent expression. "Angel? Why would you need his number? I'm never at his place."
"Never? Oh, so you're not seeing him?" Her expression was casual but her tone made her daughter even more cautious.
"Seeing Angel? No, he's, like, an older guy and he only shows up to warn of danger. He's more like a cop than anything else."
"Yes, I got that impression when I was talking to him. He was rather closemouthed on the subject. All he would say is that he was supposed to work beside you and help you in the struggle against evil or some such thing." Joyce eyed her daughter pensively. Angel hadn't been very forthcoming and Buffy got really evasive whenever she spoke about him. Mrs. Summers was fairly certain there was more going on between her only child and that older boy. But neither of them had the appearance of two kids who were dating.
"But I really should have his number, don't you think?" she probed.
"I don't have his number, Mom, so giving it is not really of the possible. Like I said, Angel just comes and goes when he likes. He's a little like Batman that way," Buffy said and cringed inwardly at how stupid that sounded.
"So maybe I should just send up a Batsignal when I want to reach him," Joyce joked.
"Good idea. Wish I'd thought of it." Buffy glanced at the clock. "Shouldn't you get going? You don't want to be late."
Mrs. Summers finished packed and eyed the closed suitcase critically, going through her mental checklist to see if she had everything. Then she gathered her daughter close and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She was really trying not to smother her with worrying so she kept her goodbyes to a minimum. "Goodbye, honey. I'll see you late Thursday night." She hefted the suitcase and paused to consider. "Maybe when I get back, you can find this Angel and invite him over to dinner. I'd really like to know more about him."
Dinner? As in eating and drinking? Oh boy. Buffy tried to keep from panicking at the idea. So instead of replying, she pointed meaningfully at the clock. "Do I have to push you out the door?" she chided. "Go, go!" She stood in the front doorway as her mother waved at her and drove off. Then Buffy sagged against the closed door and puffed out her lips in a sigh. "God, I thought she'd never leave." She ran upstairs to get ready for the night's patrolling.
The school cafeteria was more than usually lively as all the students found a new topic of conversation. Xander peered at his test form. " 'Are you a people person, or do you prefer keeping your own company?' Well, what if I'm a people person who keeps his own company by default?"
Buffy shrugged. "So mark 'none of the above.' "
Xander scanned the paper and huffed, "Well, there are no boxes for 'none of the above.' That would introduce too many variables into their mushroom head, number-crunching little world. Who thinks up silly ideas like 'Career Week' anyway? We're still young, crazy kids. Why are adults so eager to push us into the nine-to-five rat race grind they'd do anything to get out of?"
Willow sat next to them with her test. "I'm sensing bitterness."
Buffy checked her boxes dejectedly as Willow and Xander continued to chatter about their possible futures. She listened with half an ear as Willow and Xander debated their prospects and grimaced as Xander engaged in yet another exchange of biting sarcasm with Cordelia. Sometimes she wondered if she'd made a mistake saving Ms. Chase's life so repeatedly.
However, her life had been a lot like Cordelia's once. She'd been May Queen and popular with scads of empty-headed, giggly girlfriends. She'd worn fashionable clothes and had no bigger ambition than going to Paris and marrying Christian Slater. All that had ended when Merrick had shown up to tell her she had to go fight the vampires and sent all her lovely, adolescent dreams up in smoke. She sighed deeply and frowned at the next question.
Willow looked over Buffy's shoulder. "Shrubs? Why are they asking you about shrubs?"
"Maybe they want to see if she can build a shrubbery. Or cut down a forest wiiiiiith…a herring!" Xander chimed in, grinning in the face of their wry expressions.
Buffy scowled at the offending piece of paper. "Uhhh! I shouldn't even be bothering with this. It's all mootville for me. No matter what my aptitude test says, we already know my deal. Dates with the undead that feature pointy wooden things…"
"Then why are you even taking the test?" Willow asked.
"It's Principal Snyder's hoop of the week. He's not happy unless I'm jumping. Believe me, I would not be here otherwise." Buffy made a short mental debate and checked off the "yes" box for shrubs. "This is so of the pointless. Unless Hell freezes over and every vamp in Sunnydale puts in for early retirement, I'd say my future is pretty much a non-issue. It's like I told my mom. She's the worker bee in the family. I'm just the Slayer soldier."
"But as a plus you get to gorge on all that delicious honey. Yum yum!" Xander said, smacking his lips and rubbing his stomach.
Buffy rolled her eyes as Willow tried to appease her. "B-by the way, how's your mom?"
"She's gonna be on an art-buying trip until Thursday. For the next three days, I have the house to myself."
"Cool!" Xander exclaimed. "We can come over to your house after hours and crash. Willow, you bring the nachos; I'll bring the dirty movies. We can have a slumber party."
"Slumber parties are for girls, Xander," Willow pointed out.
"Then you girls can have the slumber party and I'll stand watch for invading evil. You know, strictly in a bodyguard kind of way," Xander replied while waggling his eyebrows.
"Ignore him, Buffy. His aptitude test will probably have him working as a video clerk," Willow said, wrinkling her nose at the brunette boy.
"Hey! I resemble that remark."
Buffy grinned, her good spirits restored. "Sure, why not? Unless Giles uses my mom's absence to keep me training late."
Xander didn't see the problem. "So just don't tell him your mom's AWOL."
"That may not stop him, Xander. Now that he knows my mother's in on the Slayer secret, and I don't have to come up with bogus excuses as to why I'm late coming home, he has me training later and harder." Buffy sighed and rolled up her aptitude test. "And, on that note, I've got to check in at the library and see if that Watcher of mine has come up with any ancient prophecy about impending disaster."
"That man has no concept of fun," Xander chided, tsk tsking over Giles's no-amusement attitude.
"Do they even know that word in England?" Buffy asked with a smirk.
Buffy was relieved to learn there was no sign of evil on the horizon—unless you counted Snyder. Giles commiserated with her about the whole Career Week problem but had no useful advice to give. So it was a truly crabby Slayer who marched through the Sunnydale cemeteries that night taking out her frustrations on the undead.
Buffy clambered up to her bedroom window, silent as a breeze, and paused to smile at the sight before her. Angel was there, padding through her room and taking note of her personal possessions. If she'd caught anybody else doing this, she would have been seriously pissed. But with Angel the actions were sweet…and kinda cute.
When he picked up and sniffed at her stuffed pig, she tossed her bag of weapons through the window onto the floor. Angel turned around, startled, still clutching the stuffed animal. "Buffy! You scared me."
"Now you know what it feels like, Stealth Guy." She smirked at his discomfiture, climbed the rest of the way inside and began pulling out her hair clips. "Just dropping by for a little quality time with Mr. Gordo?"
"Excuse me?" Angel asked, baffled by the name.
"The pig." The souled vampire realized he was still holding the toy and tossed it onto her chair, embarrassed. "So what's up?"
"Nothing."
She sighed at the obvious lie. "Only you don't have a nothing face. You have a something face. And you don't have to whisper. Mom's in L.A. 'till Thursday. Art buying or something."
"Then why'd you come in through the window?"
She glanced back at the open gap and grimaced. He had a point. "Habit."
The vampire smiled and spoke in a normal tone. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. There have been rumors that something bad is coming to town."
Buffy sagged, disappointed. She didn't know why she should be. In spite of the whole Billy mess, Angel was still keeping his distance romantic-wise. "There's a surprise. Angel comes with bad news."
"This is serious, Buffy."
"Isn't it always?" she groused. Just then the telephone rang and they both jumped. She signaled him to keep quiet and she picked up the phone. "Hello? Mom? Hi. I got in from patrolling just a little while ago. Yes, everything's fine." She shot a narrow stare at Angel, recalling his words from moments ago. "I finished my homework before I went out. I always do; I prefer not to be distracted by thoughts of conjugating French verbs while I'm pounding the baddies. How're things going on your end?"
She listened to the animated talk from her absent parent. "Really? See, you were needed. I don't think that's the kind of thing an assistant could have handled. What'll you be bringing back?" She screwed up her face. "Balinese masks. Ugh." There was another pause as her mother argued about the artwork. "I know they're an important part of their culture but, honest to god, mom, they are some of the ugliest things I've ever seen. And you're talking to somebody who runs into ugly every night of the week and twice on Sundays."
There was some more talk and Buffy smiled. "Okay. Love you, too, mom. See you on Thursday." She hung up the phone and looked at it pensively for a few seconds.
Angel moved to sit beside her. "What is it, Buffy?"
"Nothing." Seeing his expression, she amended, "Guess I don't have a nothing face on either." She sighed. Uh, we're having this thing at school."
"Career Week?"
"How did you know?"
He smiled faintly, his normally somber expression lightening a bit. "I lurk."
Of course. How could she forget? "Well, then you know it's a whole week of 'what's my line' only I don't get to play. Sometimes I want…a normal life. Like I had before."
An unreadable look drifted into his dark eyes. "Before me."
"No, Angel." She touched his hand and wound her tanned fingers in his paler ones. "It's not you. You're the one freaky thing in my freaky world that still makes sense to me. I just get messed sometimes. I wish we could be regular kids." As he raised his eyebrows, she corrected, "Okay, then a regular kid and her cradle-robbing, creature-of-the night boyfriend.
Angel let out a laugh and Buffy was absurdly pleased that she could brighten his mood. He gestured at a picture on her dresser. "Was this part of your normal life?"
Buffy looked at the picture and laughed. "Oh my god. My Dorothy Hamill phase. My room in L.A. was pretty much a shrine." She recalled all the Hamill memorabilia she had collected: the pictures, programs, dolls. She'd even gotten the haircut. Yikes, she was glad Angel had never seen her like that. The picture of the five-year-old her on ice skates was bad enough.
"When was the last time you put on your skates?" Angel asked her gently.
"About a couple of hundred demons ago." Some nights it felt like a couple of hundred years ago…
Angel shifted closer to her, breathing in her vanilla scent. "There's a rink out past Route 17, it's…closed on Tuesdays."
Surprised, she looked up at him. "Tomorrow's Tuesday."
He grinned in the face of her obvious delight. "I know."
She swallowed. All at once it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "You want to take me ice skating? You and me. Is-is this a date?" Buffy wanted to be casual. But this was the first time Angel had ever suggested an activity with her that didn't have to do with great, big balls of doom headed her way and it was hard for her to remain calm.
"I-I guess it is." His eyes rested on her face, noticing her hazel eyes shining green even in the dimness of the room. "So…do you want to go?"
"Yeah!" Buffy paused and tried to regain her composure. "I-I mean, sure. This is at night, right? I'll make up some excuse for Giles. No, wait. I'll just tell him I have homework. And there's no nasty, demonic foulness, none that he knows about, anyway. He told me himself so there are no terrible monsters to hold me back. So, yeah, definitely can make it tomorrow."
"Great. I'll see you tomorrow night." He moved towards the window and she grabbed at his arm.
"Hey, you can go out the front door, you know."
He smiled and pressed a kiss on her lips. "Habit."
Buffy practically floated to school the next day. She had a date! With Angel! Okay, maybe date was too strong a word for an impromptu decision to go ice-skating. But still—date with Angel! She couldn't wait to tell Willow.
It turned out Willow was too busy consoling Xander about his future to inquire about Angel. It seemed the godlike figures that decided future employment had pegged the brunette Slayerette as a prison guard. Buffy added her commiseration to Willow's while she mentally decided to keep quiet about her date. She didn't have to share everything she did with her creature-of-the-night boyfriend with her friends, did she?
"Honestly, Buffy, when you look at me, do you think 'prison guard?' " Xander questioned, spreading his arms wide to indicate his less-than-butch frame.
She shook her head. "Um, crossing guard, maybe. But prison guard? Nope, not seeing that. But look on the bright side. At least you'll be on the right side of the bars." She giggled and Willow choked off a smirk.
Xander glared at them both. "Ha, ha, ha, ha! Laugh now, missy!" He pointed at Buffy. "They assigned you to the booth for law enforcement professionals."
"As in—police?" Buffy replied, stunned.
He nodded gleefully. "As in polyester, doughnuts and brutality."
Willow chirped, "But, hey, doughnuts!"
Buffy groaned in self-pity. "Terrific. First honey, now doughnuts. I'm going to be fat and covered in zits before I'm twenty."
Buffy saw Giles walking along with a tall stack of old books in his arms and gritted her teeth. She'd forgotten. Her Watcher was on this Tony Robbins hyper-efficiency kick. Even though he'd told her there was no major danger, he still expected her to check in every day after homeroom. "Guys, I'll have to meet my doom later. Watcherly duties beckon."
Giles was precariously balancing his stack of books on the table but they began to topple. Buffy caught them before they could fall and Giles smiled gratefully at her. "Buffy. Thank you. I've been indexing the Watcher diaries covering the last couple of centuries. You would be amazed at how numbingly pompous and long-winded some of these Watchers were."
She rolled her eyes. "Color me stunned."
"So, uh, I trust last night's patrol was fruitful?"
[Not the patrol so such. But the aftermath with Angel? Yummers.] She said nothing of this to Giles only shrugged. "Found vamps. Staked vamps. No unusual beasties out there. It was kinda dullsville."
He frowned, pulling at his lower lip. "Quiet, did you say? That could be ominous."
She threw up her hands. "Only you could find the danger in quiet. Maybe that means we get a break for a change."
"Buffy, vampires and other evil creatures are a lot like animals. When something perilous looms on the horizon, they go to ground, either to gather their forces and wait for the proper moment to strike or else to leave town to avoid something more vicious than themselves. I'll have to research." He reached for a book at random and began gingerly turning the worn pages.
"Fine. But if you don't find anything of the definite then it's the usual for me tonight?" she asked hopefully.
"I suppose," Giles conceded with reluctance.
"Great. I'll see you later then to get the Evil Watch forecast," Buffy said as she sauntered out of the library.
The man getting off the bus was an ugly sonofagun. He was tall and muscular in a seedy, biker kind of way. He wore steel-toed boots, a scar running across his left eye and an intimidating "don't screw with me" expression. The other passengers gave him a wide berth as they shuffled off past him. The mild-mannered gentleman with the briefcase didn't merit so much as a second look.
As the gentleman approached his target, he curled his lips upward automatically in the bland, unthreatening smile he had perfected for years to disarm his prey. He eyed the "Summers" nameplate hanging from the mailbox and then proceeded onwards to the house at 1628 Revello Drive. He knocked on the neighbor's door and waited to be admitted.
Buffy, Willow and Xander dawdled in the library while the blonde Slayer stole surreptitious glances at the clock. It was a couple of hours until nightfall but she dreaded hearing any news that might delay her meeting with Angel.
"So, G-man, there is total absence of naughty wickedness afoot?"
"W-well, that would appear to be the case, Xander," Giles ventured. "And I've told you not to call me that."
The dark-haired teenager shook his head. "Shame on evil! It's definitely laying down on the job. Hey, Buffy, any news from tall, dark and cryptic about menacing badness on the prowl?"
"Huh?" Since she'd been thinking about Angel, Buffy started guiltily. "Um, no. Nothing from Angel. Hey, Giles, if there's no Big Bad around, can I get home? I want to put in some quality time on my homework." She got up and prepared to leave.
"Since when are you such a big fan of homework, Buff?" Willow called after her.
"Since I heard law enforcement's in my future. Maybe if I get higher grades I can avoid that fate." Buffy shivered dramatically and rushed out the library as quickly as she could without arousing suspicion.
Giles raised his eyebrows at the other two. "Law enforcement?"
Buffy skated along the rink. God, this brought back such happy memories. For brief moments, the years fell away from her and she was little Buffy Summers, Dorothy Hamill wannabe again, practicing her axles. She tried to glide into a sit-spin but only ended up sliding clumsily into the sidewall. Suddenly, the oversized thug from the bus depot reached down and grabbed her around the neck, lifting her off the ice. He laid her down hard on the railing and began choking her.
"Buffy!" Angel raced from the rinkside, his game face on, and launched himself at her assailant. He managed to knock the brute off her and proceeded to punch him in the face. To his shock, the man didn't appear at all fazed and returned his blow with a double-fisted punch to the stomach.
The vampire traded blow for blow but the man—if man he was—was incredibly strong. He shrugged off the vampire's attacks, grabbed Angel by the throat and lifted him off the ice. Apparently he didn't know what the vampire was or didn't care that throttling wouldn't hurt him. Maybe he was simply trying to pull Angel's head off his shoulders. Judging by his tightening grip, Angel suspected he might actually succeed.
Buffy had regained her balance and skated towards the heavy-set man as fast as she could. Catching hold of the netting at the rinkside, she swung herself up and sliced across his throat with her skating blade. The thug released Angel and grabbed his own neck, unable to breathe past the blood filling his trachea. Staggering onto the ice, he collapsed on the chilly surface.
Buffy glared at the hairy corpse. Dammit! Couldn't she have just one normal evening out without getting attacked? "The Hellmouth presents: Dead Guys on Ice. Not exactly the evening we were aiming for."
Angel crouched over the dead man, trying to get some clue to his identity and why he'd wanted his Slayer dead. Lifting his hand to inspect a ring, he held it up to his eyes. "You're in danger. You know what the ring means?"
"I just killed a Super Bowl champ?" Buffy joked.
He frowned, annoyed that she could be so flippant. "I'm serious! You should go home and wait until you hear from me." He removed the ring and handed it to her.
Buffy opened her mouth to protest when she saw his face. There was a cut on his forehead thickly oozing blood over his ridges. "What about you? You're bleeding."
Angel shrank from her hand as she reached up to his wound. "Forget about me. This is bad, Buffy. We've got to get you outta here."
"No! Your eye!" When he stepped away again and shook her off, she frowned. "Don't be a baby. I'm not gonna hurt you."
"It's not that," he mumbled. "I…"
"What?" What was the big deal? She'd seen him hurt worse than this.
His yellow eyes shifted from hers. Shame was in his face and voice as he murmured, "You shouldn't have to touch me when I'm like this."
Then she realized. He was still wearing his game face. Usually he was quick to return to his human features around her. Fear and pain were making it difficult for him to resume his usual handsome visage. "Oh," she said quietly. She removed her glove and reached up to touch his brow with her tiny hand. "I didn't even notice."
He stared at her, astonished. She meant it. His hideous face didn't repel her. She moved to kiss him and he hesitantly responded. As the kiss deepened, Buffy rose on the tips of her skates to bring herself closer.
Unnoticed by either warrior, a Jamaican girl with long, dark hair watched them closely. She saw the corpse sprawled on the ice and the two lovers kissing, apparently oblivious to its presence, and her lips thinned. It was too dangerous to take both of them together if they were as deadly as they appeared. She would bide her time until she could deal with them individually.
Given the attack, Angel decided to cut the evening short and Buffy reluctantly agreed. She'd injured her knee when Conan the Barbarian had dropped her and wasn't in shape for more skating anyway. But she was damned if she was splitting town without learning more about what she was up against. She held an icepack to her knee while she sat on the library steps and looked on as Giles examined the ring under a desktop magnifying glass. "This guy was hard-core, Giles. And Angel was power-freaked by that ring."
Giles leaned back and held the small circlet up to the light. "I'm afraid he was not overreacting. This ring is worn only by members of the Order of Taraka. It's a society of deadly assassins dating back to King Solomon."
Xander looked at the glittering object critically. It didn't seem that special. And he couldn't be afraid of guys who wore jewelry. "Didn't they beat the Elks this year in the Sunnydale Adult Bowling League Championships?"
"Their credo is to sow discord and kill the unwary," Giles continued.
"Bowling is a vicious game," Xander chimed in again.
"That's enough, Xander!" Giles snapped. When the boy had the grace to look ashamed, he continued in a milder tone. "It's just not the time for jokes."
"These assassins—why are they after me?" Buffy asked in an effort to defuse the tension.
"W-well, you are the Slayer. And the services of assassins are usually available for a price. It may be that someone in Sunnydale has decided you are a great enough threat to hire them t-to…" He trailed away.
"So now I'm on somebody's hit list. Yay me. It's nice to be wanted," Buffy sighed.
The phone in the library office rang and Giles raised his eyebrows. "Was anybody expecting a call?"
Buffy started as she remembered her promise, wincing as her weight was carelessly placed on her injured knee. "Eep. That would be Mom. She must have called the house and found me not there." She hobbled to the office and picked up the phone. "Mom? Hi. How are you?" Slight pause. "Yes, I know I wasn't home." Longer pause. "There was a good reason for it! This was slaying related." There was a longer pause during which Buffy waved at the others in a "not to worry" signal.
"No, you don't need to come home. Giles, me and the others are handling it. It's just research with moldy old books at this point. Boring and snoozeville. It's way more exciting where you're at." She listened a little longer. "If I really need you, I'll call. I promise. Bye."
She hung up and came back, smiling in the face of their unspoken questions. "Wow, that was awkward. I need to get a cell phone or something."
"Buffy, why did you lie to your mom?" Willow asked. "I thought you were going to keep her in the know on all things slayie."
"I am, Wills. It's just that, well, before she left Mom was beating herself up because she was feeling mundo guilty over going to her job while her little girl was left at home to battle nasty evil. I told her I didn't want her to stop having a life on my account. One person trapped by the slayage in the Summers's household is enough." She slouched to the library table and slumped into a chair.
"I didn't know you were feeling trapped, Buffy," Giles replied, his eyes on his Slayer.
Buffy shrugged, determined to downplay her neediness. "No big, Giles. One girl in all the world blah blah blah—at least until I die again."
"Well, in the interests of keeping you alive, I really think you should leave town. The best thing you can do right now is to find a secure location, somewhere out of the way you can go until we decide on the best course of action."
"Okay, now you and Angel have both said to head for the hills. Are you saying I can't handle this, that I'm not strong enough to fight these people?" Buffy flexed her knee and scowled at her Watcher. Thanks to Slayer healing the soreness was vanishing and she leapt to her feet to demonstrate her combat readiness.
Giles spoke in even tones, trying to impress on the angry girl the perils of the situation. "The Order of Taraka are a breed apart, Buffy. U-unlike vampires they have no earthly desires but to collect their bounty. They find a target, and, uh… they eliminate it." He watched Buffy absorb this sobering news. "You can kill as many as you like. It won't make any difference. Where there's one, there will be another and another. They won't stop coming until the job is done. Each one of them works alone…his own way. Some are human, some a-are not. Y-you won't know who they are until they strike."
Willow had been turning things over in her mind. Now an idea had occurred to her. "Giles, I was thinking. If these guys are killers for hire, then won't taking out their employer sorta take them off the job? I mean, no buyer, no pay. No pay, no bounty. No bounty—"
"No bounty hunters. Good thinking, Willow," Buffy finished. She looked at Giles. "So the first thing we have to do is find out who's paying these guys and then take 'em out." She nodded sharply and walked out of the library. She didn't expect the others to be able to track down supernatural assassins or the kind of people who might hire them. But she knew who could help her.
The evening shadows lengthened as Norman Pfister watched the Summers's house through his binoculars. His expressionless face revealed nothing, not even impatience. His prey hadn't shown herself in hours but if there was one thing he knew how to do it was wait. This was her house he was watching. She was bound to return to it sooner or later.
Lying lifeless at his feet was Mrs. Kalish, the Summers's unfortunate neighbor. The mealworms creeping over her corpse inched up his body and rapidly reformed themselves into his missing right arm. One crawled over his lower lip and he opened his mouth and swallowed it without thinking.
Buffy ran swiftly through the streets. Angel should have gotten home by now. She would tell him about the Order of Taraka and then he could go looking up his sources to see who was planning on making her into a Slayer trophy. That's what she told herself, anyway.
But she really just wanted to see Angel again. They'd gotten really intimate after their first—and what was shaping up to be their only—date and she wanted a repeat of Angel smoochies. Plus the news of her imminent death at the hands of a bunch of assassins had wigged her out more than she let on to the others.
[Giles thinks I can't deal, that these guys are too tough for me. But if anybody could help me with them, it's Angel. And if he can't…] No, that thought really didn't bear thinking about. She only knew she couldn't leave another home and didn't want to without at least saying goodbye to him.
She stood before his apartment door and knocked. No answer. Would he be sleeping? No, it was still night. If he was home, he'd be awake. She hesitated and then twisted the knob hard, breaking the lock. She slowly entered, closing the door behind her. A modern desk covered with papers was set against the far wall with a dozen old pictures around it. An ivory statue was enclosed in a glass display case. She paused before it, thinking about how much her mother would have appreciated it.
Finally she found his bed, still unmade. She didn't want to stay here if Angel wasn't around. She should be hightailing it out of town just as he and Giles had warned. [I'll just wait here until he comes back. I won't sleep in his bed—or imagine him in bed beside me.]
But the minutes passed and there was no Angel. Too afraid to go home and promising herself it would be only for a little while, Buffy lay down on his bed and curled into herself. In spite of her intentions, within minutes, she was fast asleep.
Joyce Summers picked up the phone again. She'd let the phone at the house ring several times. She had called the library again and gotten vague noises from Mr. Giles that Buffy had stepped out to the bathroom. Another call fifteen minutes later had gotten no answer. The phone at Willow's house had a cheery message on the answering machine but no one picked up. Well, Willow's parents were often away on fact-finding missions. She recalled the redhead stammering something about her parents being social intellectuals of some sort or other. A surly man—Mr. Harris, she assumed—had picked up at Xander's house but the man had been ill tempered and curt to the point of hostility. She suspected he was drunk and wondered if Xander had to deal with that on a regular basis.
Something was wrong. She was sure of it, Buffy's earlier platitudes aside. Her daughter had broken the rules and she knew the consequences. She would wrap up business here as quickly as possible and then she was heading home first thing in the morning.
Angel knew what the ring meant. The Order of Taraka was in town and they had targeted Buffy, his Slayer. It was foolish to think of her in that proprietary way but he couldn't help it. She was his and he was prepared to cut a bloody swath through Sunnydale if that's what it took to protect her. And he knew just the place to start.
Willy sensed rather than saw the looming presence in the shadows. Sweeping up the dust on the floor, he yelled, "We're closed! Can't you read the sign?" Angel stepped into the light and the diminutive man's tone changed, becoming completely deferential. "Oh, uh…hey, Angel. I didn't recognize you in the dark there. What, uh… what can I do for you tonight?"
"I need some information," Angel said softly. His manner was offhand as if he really wasn't interested in the answer but Willy knew better and his eyes began darting around the bar, looking for the nearest exit.
"Yeah? Man, that's too bad, 'cause…I'm stayin' away from that whole scene. I'm livin' right, Angel."
"Sure you are, Willy. And I'm taking up sunbathing." Noting the man's tense stature, he grabbed Willy and smacked his head down onto the bar. "Who sent them?"
Willy knew a play for innocence wouldn't really work but he tried it anyway. What was the point of letting Angel have it too easy? "Who sent who?"
"Wrong answer." He held his hand down on Willy's head and started pressing. "Was it the Anointed One?"
"Dammit! Look, Angel, I-I got some good pigs' blood in, good stuff. My fence said… Ah!" he squawked as the pressure increased.
Angel spoke in a bored tone. "You know, I'm a little rusty when it comes to killing humans. It could take awhile."
Willy was frantic. Was Angel out of the loop or did he not care what kind of force he was up against? "Look, this kid's got friends; he's got followers! I tell you, he'll draw and quarter me, man!"
"You've got bigger problems at the moment, Willy." Angel relaxed his hold, lifted Willy's head up and then slammed it down on the counter, harder this time. "Where can I find them?"
"Okay! Okay! Rumor's got it they're in some underground…"
He was interrupted as a foot came out of nowhere and gave the vampire restraining him a violent kick to the face. Angel fell onto the floor and looked up, dazed, to see a short, brown-skinned woman with grim determination written all over her facing him. She grabbed Willy's broom, broke off the handle and attacked him with the makeshift stake.
Willy bolted, not sticking around to see the outcome of the fight. He didn't know who his savior was and he wasn't staying in the line of fire to find out. [Looks like Angel's about to get staked. Too bad about that. Hope they don't make too much of a mess of the bar.]
Inside the bar, the fight was fast and furious. Angel had never met a fighter like this girl. She blocked his every move and shrugged off his most vicious blows. She was as powerful as the man he'd faced in the ice rink.
She was a member of the Order. She had to be although why she was attacking him and not Buffy was a mystery. She followed up her blows to his gut with a shove into Willy's storeroom and he crashed through the cage door into a stack of empty water bottles. Before he could recover his balance, she swung the cage door shut and bolted it. Angel scrambled up and slammed against the door but she only laughed at his efforts.
"You think this is funny?" he snarled through his fangs.
"I tink it is funny now. Dat girl. De one I saw you wit before?"
Angel snarled again. "You stay away from her," he growled, his voice low and menacing.
The sound didn't appear to frighten her unduly. "I'm afraid ya are not in a position to treaten."
"When I get outta here I'll do more than threaten!"
She squinted at the small window set high in the small enclosure. "Den I suggest ya move quickly." She gestured towards the window. "Eastern exposure. De sun will be comin' in a few hours." She moved back and padlocked the cage. "More dan enough time for me to find yer girlfriend."
Angel roared in rage and rattled the cage door with his hands as she left the building.
Giles was frantic with worry. He and Willow had stayed at the library all night, occasionally checking in with Xander. Mrs. Summers had called once or twice during the night; he didn't think she believed his stories about Buffy being in the loo.
He held the phone, hoping that Xander would answer it and not his ponce of a father. The man did not take kindly to being woken so early and his language left a great deal to be desired. When Xander picked up, he was cheered to hear his voice. "Xander?" Short pause. "No, no, I-I haven't heard from Buffy yet. Look, I-I-I think you should go to her home and check on her." He paused again as Xander made some objection. "I-I don't know. Get Cordelia to drive you."
He hung up and rested his head in his hands unhappily. Where could Buffy be?
Cordelia couldn't believe that she had been shanghaied into driving Xander the lame-o over to check up on Buffy. Who did Buffy think she was, worrying her friends like this and making Cordelia Chase into a chauffeur? Driving around Alexander Harris, loser extraordinaire, and having to listen to his pathetic attempts at witty repartee were the crowning insults. What did he think he was going to do if Supergirl Buffy was in danger? Scream and run like a girl? Cordelia was a better fighter than he any day of the week.
Giving a deep sigh, Cordelia twirled her keys while Xander stumbled around on the upper floor of the Summers house looking for his fake blonde crush. Hearing a knock at the door, she smirked in triumph. That was probably Buffy now and wouldn't Xander look the big dork for worrying like this. She opened the door and saw a dweeby guy in cheap polyester holding up a large case.
"Good day. I'm Norman Pfister with Blush Beautiful Skin Care and Cosmetics." He held up the case so Cordelia could see the words written on the side. "I was wondering if I might interest you in some free samples."
Her face lit up greedily at the magic word. "Free?" Well, she might as well get something out of this pointless trip. She shut the door behind him and began questioning her knight in shining polyester. "Do you have anything in raisin? I know you wouldn't think so, but I'm both a winter and a summer."
"It's $9.99, tax included," he told her with a smile, his eyes roaming around the living room.
She frowned at him. "I thought you said this was a free sample."
His eyes shot back to her and suddenly she noticed how he never appeared to blink. "Are there more ladies in the house?"
"Um, no. Do you have anything in the berry family?" Then she saw a mealworm inch out of his sleeve onto his hand. The man didn't seem to notice and she felt her skin crawl as more of the worms began appearing.
Xander chose that moment to come down the stairs. "Hey, what's up?"
Cordelia pointed a shaking finger at the mealworms that were beginning to surface from all parts of Norman's suit. "Uh, uh, uh, he's, he's some sort of salesman and he was just leaving, right? Buh-bye! Thank you!"
Not seeing the worms, Xander grabbed Norman's arm and tried forcing him towards the door. "Okay, Mary Kay. Time to…" Then he noticed the squishiness of the man's arm under his own and looked down to see the worms under his grasping fingers. "ACK!!! Time to run!"
As Xander grabbed Cordelia and took off at a dead run, Norman's body dissolved into mass of mealworms, each unerringly headed towards the fleeing pair. Attempts to run through both outer doors met with defeat as Norman rapidly reconstituted himself at the exits. Xander changed tactics and pulled Cordelia towards the basement. Slamming it shut, the two of them stomped on the worms that tried slithering under the door crack.
Xander hurried to seal up the crack with duct tape. As Cordelia grabbed a broom to swat away the offending creepy crawlers from off his body, she wailed, "Why are these terrible things always happening to me?"
TBC