Chapter Four: Meetings
It had started to rain a light drizzle, and it dampened the air with a humid atmosphere. An ambiance that Alec did not particularly like. Cats hated getting wet. With a slight grimace on his face, he revved up the engine of his black BMW (he had stolen it back at Seattle) and sped through into 'Sunnydale, California.'
He explored the small town with careful eyes. Unlike Washington D.C, which was greatly affected by the Pulse, the country of California seemed to have went by untouched. And he found himself becoming fallow to the pleasant- looking town. Compared to Seattle, which virtually lived in poverty and was always crawling with Sector cops and hover drones, Sunnydale was the ideal kind of neighborhood that Alec saw on television. Neatly-trimmed lawns spread across the sidelines to be followed by average-looking suburban homes.
The streets were dimly-lit, and the environment gave off an ominous feeling that made him strangely alert. The town was deathly silent, and if it wasn't for the brightly lit houses, Alec would've thought that he was driving through a ghost town. He frowned as he passed by another cemetery. It was the third that he had seen since entering Sunnydale. It seemed that the burying of the dead was very popular in the city. In Seattle, many of them simply buried their loved ones in a secluded cove, or clearing, without the fancy headstones or coffins due to the lack of money.
He braked to a halt in front of a telephone booth. A map was folded tidily beside the telephone, and he swiftly memorized it, glancing around as he did so. Now what? Alec thought. He knew nothing of Max's whereabouts, only that she was in Sunnydale. And it was a pretty large place to scavenge around, even for an X5. By the time he would be done, Max might already be – dead.
"Where the hell are you, Maxie?" He asked out loud, not caring if anyone heard him.
"Looking for someone?" A feminine voice asked from behind him. He spun around startled, cursing himself for not hearing her arrive. It was a blonde, short, skinny, but pretty. Beside her stood a guy that looked like had hadn't seen the sun in years. And he was carrying an axe. This place must be older than I thought, Alec thought wryly.
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I am looking for someone." Alec replied in a neutral voice. As a soldier, he was trained not to trust anyone, but so far, he was not getting any bad vibes from the two strangers. It was in his genes to know who was the enemy and who was not. If they were Familiars, he would've been feeling that annoying tugging in the pit of his stomach that announced trouble.
"We're looking for someone too," the girl said. "And I have a feeling that there's a connection between the two absences. You'd better come with us." She instructed gesturing towards a small park that seemed to lead towards an old chateau. Alec, knowing he had no other leads than this one, obliged reluctantly.
"You're with the Watcher's Council," Faith observed, narrowing her eyes at the man who introduced himself as 'White'. He had just finished reliving to her the history of her life as a murderer, in which Faith had tuned him out to scrutinize the girl that was chained across the room. Beautiful was the first thing that came into Faith's mind when she saw her, and there was also the fact that she looked older then Faith, meaning she wasn't one of the Potentials Willow had told her about.
White had addressed the other a girl a few times during his history lesson, calling her 452, to which Faith found oddly disturbing. It also appeared that her fellow captive was a 'killer' as well, which was just fine with Faith. She had met a lot of blood-hungry people in LA Jail, and she was already used to such environs.
"No, I am not." White said, looking deeply insulted. "I am part of a more primordial kind of assemblage. A Breeding Cult, if you may. And we are far, far above those who are part of the so-called Watcher's Council."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the two men who dragged her into captivity. "Sir," they said, inclining their heads slightly down. "The slayer, and two men are making their way to the winery."
White's face paled in obvious anger. "Who are the two men?"
"You're assistant," one said with a touch of distaste. "Otto, said one of them was a transgenic."
Transgenic? Faith thought. This was new. She had heard about them of course. They were all over international news, and some of the guards back at Los Angeles would allow them to watch once in a while. But what would one be doing in small town Sunnydale was news to her ears. And there was the tiny little fact that he was wandering around with Buffy, and some other guy that Faith presumed would be either Giles, Xander, or Spike. One of Buffy's ever so loyal friends.
"He said that it was 494," the other informed. White further paled and he struck his fist across the wall, beside her creating a huge dent, and drawing blood. Faith was then distinctly aware of how strong this guy was. Who were these people?
White threw the other girl a poisonous look before disappearing through the doors with the two men in a billow of red and black robes. This left Faith alone with the other girl. They stared at each other for a few seconds, daring the other to break the silence. It was Faith who broke first, unable to take the other's girl's piercing gaze that seemed to stare straight into the back of her skull. It unnerved her.
"You're a transgenic," Faith said bluntly, realization dawning on her.
"And you're a slayer," the girl said in an expressionless tone. "Whatever that is."
"So," Faith started in a conversational tone. "Don't tell me you're name is, 452."
"Try Max," she said, hitching up one shoulder in a careless gesture.
"Faith," she introduced herself, and tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "So, why don't we exchange life stories, since our life is officially going to end tonight, anyway."
The Vineyard was an old two story building that stretched to width rather than length. It had been abandoned for more than three years already, and nobody bothered cleaning it up, both interiorly and exteriorly. The walls were washed up with a light russet-brown coloring that was peeling at several places. Overgrown plants stood on either side of the small porch, and the French-styled double-doors looked as if it hadn't been opened in centuries.
"How do you know that they're here?" Alec asked skeptically. "This place looks like it's been around for quite a while."
"Our friend saw the bad guys come out from this place," Buffy answered, and prepared to kick down the door. However, Alec caught her foot a second before it hit the wooden door. She raised an eyebrow. "Do you mind?"
"I'm not even going to ask, what you are." He said, dropping her foot. "But anyway, that's not the point. The point is, you're going to make a hell of a noise if you kick that door open, and that would alert whoever is waiting down there."
Buffy had the grace to feel embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. Right."
Alec reached into her hair and pulled out a hairpin, a devious gleam in his hazel-green eyes. Buffy's mouth formed a perfect 'O'. He inserted it into the keyhole, twisted it around a bit, and voila the door swung open easily. The three of them entered the winery soundlessly, and was greeted by pitch- black darkness.
Buffy swore under her breath. Slayers weren't exactly gifted with night vision, unlike vampires. Spike wouldn't have trouble at all seeing in the dark. She didn't know about Alec, but she had a distinct feeling that he too, could see in the dark. He gave off an aura of strength and power that Buffy found strangely comforting.
"Um, a little help here?" she asked as softly as possible. A cold hand took hold of her arm, Spike no doubt, and guided her down a set of stairs and into what looked like a cellar. It was dimly-lit, their only source of light coming from a light bulb that hung in the middle of the wooden ceiling. Empty barrels that used to hold extremely delicious wine lined the sidelines, and crystal glass covered in fine layers of dust stood on top of a long countertop.
"There's no one here," Spike said, with a slight frown.
"Correction," a silky voice replied from somewhere within the shadows of the subterranean vault. "I'm here." A man, dressed in swirling shrouds of crimson appeared from behind a particularly large barrel, and with him were two men dressed in business suits. They were enormous, and they cracked their knuckles in a decided manner.
"White," Alec said in an unnaturally calm voice that sent chills running down Buffy's spine. His eyes were burning with rage, turning the pools of hazel into a darker shade of emerald green. It was an astonishing sight which made Buffy reach the conclusion that their new friend certainly wasn't human.
"You know this guy?" Spike asked suspiciously.
"An old friend," Alec spat.
"You're girlfriend's dead, 494." White smirked. "The one you love so dearly."
"She's not my girlfriend," Alec replied coolly.
White's smirk broadened to a malevolent smile that Buffy found herself disliking. Spike's grip on the axe tightened as the two of them prepared for combat. There was no doubting that Alec was way beyond prepared. Anger sometimes helped in battle, it pushes you to your limits, but sometimes you push too far, and you end up doing something that you'll regret later on.
"Ah, but you don't deny the fact that you love her, don't you?" White's face contorted in a disgusted expression. "You love her so much, that you'll follow her through the gates of hell?"
Alec's back stiffened. Buffy laid a hand on his shoulder, warning him. Control was essential in conflict, and it brought you to your best defense. "Yes I would," Alec said in the same calm voice. His face had switched to a blank mask that was almost unreal. "I am after all, an assassin."
This time, it was Buffy who stiffened. An assassin? Where they siding with the wrong person here? But then, she had not received any bad vibes from the guy.
Buffy struggled to keep her emotions intact, as her mind clouded up with confusion on what to do. It was then that the two monstrous cronies that White had brought with him attacked. And Buffy finally made up her mind. She had always trusted her internal instincts, and so far, they had always been right.
It had started to rain a light drizzle, and it dampened the air with a humid atmosphere. An ambiance that Alec did not particularly like. Cats hated getting wet. With a slight grimace on his face, he revved up the engine of his black BMW (he had stolen it back at Seattle) and sped through into 'Sunnydale, California.'
He explored the small town with careful eyes. Unlike Washington D.C, which was greatly affected by the Pulse, the country of California seemed to have went by untouched. And he found himself becoming fallow to the pleasant- looking town. Compared to Seattle, which virtually lived in poverty and was always crawling with Sector cops and hover drones, Sunnydale was the ideal kind of neighborhood that Alec saw on television. Neatly-trimmed lawns spread across the sidelines to be followed by average-looking suburban homes.
The streets were dimly-lit, and the environment gave off an ominous feeling that made him strangely alert. The town was deathly silent, and if it wasn't for the brightly lit houses, Alec would've thought that he was driving through a ghost town. He frowned as he passed by another cemetery. It was the third that he had seen since entering Sunnydale. It seemed that the burying of the dead was very popular in the city. In Seattle, many of them simply buried their loved ones in a secluded cove, or clearing, without the fancy headstones or coffins due to the lack of money.
He braked to a halt in front of a telephone booth. A map was folded tidily beside the telephone, and he swiftly memorized it, glancing around as he did so. Now what? Alec thought. He knew nothing of Max's whereabouts, only that she was in Sunnydale. And it was a pretty large place to scavenge around, even for an X5. By the time he would be done, Max might already be – dead.
"Where the hell are you, Maxie?" He asked out loud, not caring if anyone heard him.
"Looking for someone?" A feminine voice asked from behind him. He spun around startled, cursing himself for not hearing her arrive. It was a blonde, short, skinny, but pretty. Beside her stood a guy that looked like had hadn't seen the sun in years. And he was carrying an axe. This place must be older than I thought, Alec thought wryly.
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I am looking for someone." Alec replied in a neutral voice. As a soldier, he was trained not to trust anyone, but so far, he was not getting any bad vibes from the two strangers. It was in his genes to know who was the enemy and who was not. If they were Familiars, he would've been feeling that annoying tugging in the pit of his stomach that announced trouble.
"We're looking for someone too," the girl said. "And I have a feeling that there's a connection between the two absences. You'd better come with us." She instructed gesturing towards a small park that seemed to lead towards an old chateau. Alec, knowing he had no other leads than this one, obliged reluctantly.
"You're with the Watcher's Council," Faith observed, narrowing her eyes at the man who introduced himself as 'White'. He had just finished reliving to her the history of her life as a murderer, in which Faith had tuned him out to scrutinize the girl that was chained across the room. Beautiful was the first thing that came into Faith's mind when she saw her, and there was also the fact that she looked older then Faith, meaning she wasn't one of the Potentials Willow had told her about.
White had addressed the other a girl a few times during his history lesson, calling her 452, to which Faith found oddly disturbing. It also appeared that her fellow captive was a 'killer' as well, which was just fine with Faith. She had met a lot of blood-hungry people in LA Jail, and she was already used to such environs.
"No, I am not." White said, looking deeply insulted. "I am part of a more primordial kind of assemblage. A Breeding Cult, if you may. And we are far, far above those who are part of the so-called Watcher's Council."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the two men who dragged her into captivity. "Sir," they said, inclining their heads slightly down. "The slayer, and two men are making their way to the winery."
White's face paled in obvious anger. "Who are the two men?"
"You're assistant," one said with a touch of distaste. "Otto, said one of them was a transgenic."
Transgenic? Faith thought. This was new. She had heard about them of course. They were all over international news, and some of the guards back at Los Angeles would allow them to watch once in a while. But what would one be doing in small town Sunnydale was news to her ears. And there was the tiny little fact that he was wandering around with Buffy, and some other guy that Faith presumed would be either Giles, Xander, or Spike. One of Buffy's ever so loyal friends.
"He said that it was 494," the other informed. White further paled and he struck his fist across the wall, beside her creating a huge dent, and drawing blood. Faith was then distinctly aware of how strong this guy was. Who were these people?
White threw the other girl a poisonous look before disappearing through the doors with the two men in a billow of red and black robes. This left Faith alone with the other girl. They stared at each other for a few seconds, daring the other to break the silence. It was Faith who broke first, unable to take the other's girl's piercing gaze that seemed to stare straight into the back of her skull. It unnerved her.
"You're a transgenic," Faith said bluntly, realization dawning on her.
"And you're a slayer," the girl said in an expressionless tone. "Whatever that is."
"So," Faith started in a conversational tone. "Don't tell me you're name is, 452."
"Try Max," she said, hitching up one shoulder in a careless gesture.
"Faith," she introduced herself, and tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "So, why don't we exchange life stories, since our life is officially going to end tonight, anyway."
The Vineyard was an old two story building that stretched to width rather than length. It had been abandoned for more than three years already, and nobody bothered cleaning it up, both interiorly and exteriorly. The walls were washed up with a light russet-brown coloring that was peeling at several places. Overgrown plants stood on either side of the small porch, and the French-styled double-doors looked as if it hadn't been opened in centuries.
"How do you know that they're here?" Alec asked skeptically. "This place looks like it's been around for quite a while."
"Our friend saw the bad guys come out from this place," Buffy answered, and prepared to kick down the door. However, Alec caught her foot a second before it hit the wooden door. She raised an eyebrow. "Do you mind?"
"I'm not even going to ask, what you are." He said, dropping her foot. "But anyway, that's not the point. The point is, you're going to make a hell of a noise if you kick that door open, and that would alert whoever is waiting down there."
Buffy had the grace to feel embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. Right."
Alec reached into her hair and pulled out a hairpin, a devious gleam in his hazel-green eyes. Buffy's mouth formed a perfect 'O'. He inserted it into the keyhole, twisted it around a bit, and voila the door swung open easily. The three of them entered the winery soundlessly, and was greeted by pitch- black darkness.
Buffy swore under her breath. Slayers weren't exactly gifted with night vision, unlike vampires. Spike wouldn't have trouble at all seeing in the dark. She didn't know about Alec, but she had a distinct feeling that he too, could see in the dark. He gave off an aura of strength and power that Buffy found strangely comforting.
"Um, a little help here?" she asked as softly as possible. A cold hand took hold of her arm, Spike no doubt, and guided her down a set of stairs and into what looked like a cellar. It was dimly-lit, their only source of light coming from a light bulb that hung in the middle of the wooden ceiling. Empty barrels that used to hold extremely delicious wine lined the sidelines, and crystal glass covered in fine layers of dust stood on top of a long countertop.
"There's no one here," Spike said, with a slight frown.
"Correction," a silky voice replied from somewhere within the shadows of the subterranean vault. "I'm here." A man, dressed in swirling shrouds of crimson appeared from behind a particularly large barrel, and with him were two men dressed in business suits. They were enormous, and they cracked their knuckles in a decided manner.
"White," Alec said in an unnaturally calm voice that sent chills running down Buffy's spine. His eyes were burning with rage, turning the pools of hazel into a darker shade of emerald green. It was an astonishing sight which made Buffy reach the conclusion that their new friend certainly wasn't human.
"You know this guy?" Spike asked suspiciously.
"An old friend," Alec spat.
"You're girlfriend's dead, 494." White smirked. "The one you love so dearly."
"She's not my girlfriend," Alec replied coolly.
White's smirk broadened to a malevolent smile that Buffy found herself disliking. Spike's grip on the axe tightened as the two of them prepared for combat. There was no doubting that Alec was way beyond prepared. Anger sometimes helped in battle, it pushes you to your limits, but sometimes you push too far, and you end up doing something that you'll regret later on.
"Ah, but you don't deny the fact that you love her, don't you?" White's face contorted in a disgusted expression. "You love her so much, that you'll follow her through the gates of hell?"
Alec's back stiffened. Buffy laid a hand on his shoulder, warning him. Control was essential in conflict, and it brought you to your best defense. "Yes I would," Alec said in the same calm voice. His face had switched to a blank mask that was almost unreal. "I am after all, an assassin."
This time, it was Buffy who stiffened. An assassin? Where they siding with the wrong person here? But then, she had not received any bad vibes from the guy.
Buffy struggled to keep her emotions intact, as her mind clouded up with confusion on what to do. It was then that the two monstrous cronies that White had brought with him attacked. And Buffy finally made up her mind. She had always trusted her internal instincts, and so far, they had always been right.