DISCLAIMER-I don't own anyone or any place in here except Pyre. Everyone belongs to Marvel Comics, Joss Whedon or DC Comics. Sunnydale, of course, belongs to Joss Whedon.
NOTES-In Buffy continuity this story takes place during season 5 of BtVS, about half way through. Everything up to and including the episode about Spike's origin has happened, everything after hasn't and maybe won't. In the continuity of my fanfics this happens after my Pryde & Wisdom trilogy (Solitary, Lonely and Hey Jupiter), pretty much as the same time as Talkin' 'Bout My Generation (X) and just prior to Smoke & Mirrors. Pyre/Michaela Jennings is a role-playing character of mine.
FEEDBACK-Send tons to or Pretty pretty please with sugar on top?
SHADOWLIFE Part 2 by RhiannonAmaris
Giles breathed a sigh of relief and turned the shop's sign to 'Closed'. "Well, thank God THAT is over." He glanced over to his only employee for agreement and found none.
Anya was gloating over the cash register. "You know, I think I finally get the holidays. What's up with 'Peace, Love and...' whatever. It's buying stuff. I like it."
Giles stared, shaking his head. "I really don't think that--" The bell on the door chimed. It was all he could do to keep from ripping it off the door and jamming it down the offending party's throat. "We're closed," he said pleasantly, through clenched teeth. 'So sod the fuck off' was left unsaid with great effort.
"Hey, G-man, it's us." Xander's voice came from behind him.
He turned to see the young man accompanied by Willow. "I see. And would you please refrain from calling me that? It's quite annoying."
"C'mon, you know you love it."
The older man only rolled his eyes. "I take it you dropped by to see Anya, but what brings Willow here?"
"Actually," Willow began, "We thought we ought to talk to you."
"It's about Buffy." Xander broke in. "Actually, its about Riley..."
Giles raised an eyebrow. Xander had once had a crush on Buffy and had been insanely jealous of Angel during high school. Giles thought he was over it, but he could easily be mistaken. In that case, however, it was doubtful that Willow would be backing him up.
"He's been acting pretty damned unhinged lately. And I think that the Initiative is starting up again. And a little while back I was talking to him and he was all... He said, and I quote 'I know she doesn't really love me. She might think she does, but she doesn't.' And he was way too calm about it." The young man began to pace. "He's going to go psycho and try to kill all of us."
"I wouldn't go that far, " Willow said, "But I am worried about him."
Giles reflected that, at the moment, Willow was probably the only one worried about Riley for Riley's sake. And that was only because she was nice to practically everyone. She was nice to Spike, for God's sake. Though he really couldn't place why they all disliked him so much. He was just, well a... "Wanker."
The only reason he knew he had spoken out loud was that everyone was staring at him. "You're right, he is. Despite the fact that he's getting laid and all." That came from Anya, who still hadn't quite grasped the concept of tact.
Xander nodded solemnly in agreement, and while Willow winced, she made no protest.
"Knowing that we have a problem is all very well, but knowing what it is and dealing with it is something else altogether."
"Well, we need to talk to Buffy about it..." There was reluctance in Willow's voice. With her mother's illness, Dawn, the current big bad, Spike and everything else the last thing the Slayer needed was another thing to worry about.
"Normally I'd agree with you, but... She has enough on her shoulders as it is. No, we'll have to deal with this on our own." Giles sighed and cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief. "I suppose we'll just have to talk with Riley ourselves."
"Which doesn't do anything about the fact that he'd probably sell us out for the sake of the mission in half a second at all." Xander threw himself into a chair. "Don't give me that 'stop exaggerating, Xander' look. I'm as serious as a heart attack here. The feel I've been getting from the guys we know that are in the Initiative is the same but more so, if you know what I mean. And I do have a bit of a feel for these things."
"That would explain a couple things," Anya said thoughtfully. They all turned to stare at her.
"What kind of things?" Xander asked, his annoyance barely masked. "And why didn't you mention them sooner?"
"I thought I kinda sorta recognized some people a while ago, but it looked like they were professors or something. I figured I was wrong, so I didn't mention it." She was slightly defensive. "I don't know them at all really. I don't want to spend all my time going 'Hey, that guy looks vaguely like somebody that worked with a succubus I used to know. Let's go hassle him.' Okay?"
"Sweetie, just mention it next time. And who were they?"
"Like I said, I don't know exactly, but I think I saw this guy that was with this bunch of English types- spies and stuff- that tried to raise Jaboulon in London a few years back. And one of W&H's minor underlings."
"Could you please be a bit more specific? I quite understand if you don't know their names, but more information on the organizations would be helpful." Giles' voice was dead calm, a sure sign that he was rapidly becoming pissed off.
"I don't know much more than that. The boss always called W&H that, I never heard anything else." She frowned a bit. "No, hold on..." She propped her arm against the counter and leaned into it. "I'm pretty sure they're out of LA. Lawyers or something like that. I never really dealt with that side of things... As for the English types nobody on the demonic side of things really knows anything about them except them, the Hated and maybe Ellie. Ellie's not talking and I'm not going to ask the Hated." The last was said in a tone of awe, fear and respect, with perhaps a touch of attraction.
"Who the heck is the Hated. Some demon?" Xander demanded with more than a touch of jealousy. "Were you and--"
"No! I've never even met him. And he's human, a magus. A very dangerous one."
"Speaking as a former demon, or as a human?" Giles asked.
"Both."
"And Ellie...?"
"Is a succubus."
"I see. And does the Hated have an actual name?"
"Well, of course he has a name."
Giles waited a moment, but Anya made no further reply. "And it would be?"
"I'm not saying it. But... He's English, your age. Blond. Accent's sort of a cross between the Beatles and 'Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels'."
"Constantine." He said it with a weary sigh, though a smile was tugging at his lips.
Anya squeaked, nodded and jumped back a bit.
"I'll give John a ring in a bit and see if I can't get him to part with some information."
"You... You know him. This is a guy who screwed over all three of the Fallen-- at once-- and you're just going to give him a ring."
"Quite." Giles began to head towards the back room, but turned around as soon as he reached the door. "That actually happened? He's mentioned something of the sort, but there is a reason we call him Conjob." He walked back into the room and began to go through the papers on his desk.
Xander was looking at his girlfriend.
"What?"
"I thought you said you didn't know this guy."
"I don't." She gave him an odd look. "Oh for... I haven't met him, but I've seen him. If the Hated comes calling on your boss, you try to look inconspicuous and sneak away slowly and quietly. Any other reaction is stupid as hell." Anya spoke slowly, as if explaining things to a child. All of a sudden she grinned. "You're jealous! That's so sweet. Stupid, but sweet." She pecked him on the cheek and looked over Giles' shoulder. "Whatcha looking for?"
"My address book, what else would I be looking for?"
"Big books we don't want to know what they're bound in?" Xander chimed in.
"A dagger?" Anya.
"A speaking mirror?" Willow said enthusiastically.
Xander leaned over the counter. "A fifth of scotch you have stashed away?"
"No, that's over by the coffee stuff." Anya said, bored.
Giles glared at her and turned back to his search. "We still have to bring the matter to Buffy's attention. Oh, for--" He slammed a drawer, opened another, pulled out a pile of letters and went through them quickly. "There we are." He took one out of its envelope, put aside a few photos and scanned its contents.
Willow had wandered into the back room and picked up the snaps. They were of a girl a couple years younger than her, with long blonde hair and a sardonic smile. "Who is she?"
"Hmm? Oh, my god-daughter."
Anya took a peak. "Then it's true? The Esoteric is the Hated's daughter." The edge of fear that had been present throughout the whole conversation grew just a bit stronger. "Now I'm really glad I switched sides. And that we aren't self righteous or anything."
"I'll give John a call, and then we'll figure out how to talk to Buffy."
Dawn thanked the bartender for the soda and looked at the crowd. She had come to the Bronze with friends, but they had all left already. It wasn't quite sunset yet, but they -- as did most long time residents of Sunnydale -- had an instinctual urge to be home before dark, and they weren't quite at the stage where they would ignore it to hang out longer. That would come in the next year or so.
Everyone had acted a bit odd towards her lately. Not that she could blame them. Not after how she had acted last week.
Dawn stood up and headed closer to the stage. The band was okay, but nothing special. Not like the Dingoes had been. She smiled; remembering one time that Buffy had taken her to a gig at the Bronze a couple of years ago. It had been just after she had found out that her sister was the Slayer. Oz had played one of her favorite songs and when she said something he'd told her that her sister had asked him to. Except, of course, it had never happened. She stopped all of a sudden. She had to stop thinking like this. Giles had told her that after the monks had changed things this was how it had always been. How he had said it, however, was a lot more complicated and took longer.
She had just about pulled herself together when someone jostled her. "Watch where you're going, will ya?" A girl her own age, everything about whom shouted 'average', yelled at a guy's retreating back. "Asshole," she said in a more discreet voice. Dawn stiffened. "Not you, kid -- even though you could have dodged or something." She was rather short, though slightly taller than Dawn; had brown hair that was probably just long enough to be put in a ponytail but hung in her face, and brown eyes. She was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt and an army surplus type field jacket, all of which had seen better days.
"Sorry." Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm Dawn." She stuck out her hand.
"Whatever." The other girl gave Dawn a suspicious glance and headed towards the door.
Kitty looked around at the room and shrugged. It wasn't the St. Martin or anything, but it would do. Besides staying someplace that nice would probably attract attention. They were just lucky that there was a middle of the road option, otherwise they would have been stuck at the Bates like motel on the outskirts of town.
"Are you going to the family right off then, love?" Pete's Cockney accent broke through her musings on their accommodations.
"Not today, I think. Why?" She gave him a playful look and began to unpack, half expecting him to interrupt that too.
"We've got a couple of hours to kill before we meet up with the others. We could probably go and get a first hand feel for the area."
"Sounds good to me." Not as good as the other thing she had thought he might suggest, but work first.
In fifteen minutes they were out and about. It was just after sunset and the streets, while not exactly dead, were pretty subdued for a college town. It wasn't anything an untrained eye would probably notice. After a while they ended up in a quiet and somewhat seedy neighborhood. Before too long they were the only ones on the street. Almost immediately after that, something jumped out of the first alley they went by. Several somethings, actually.
There were five in all. Two were wearing ratty looking leather jackets, one wore a ridiculous outfit that was probably an attempt to look like something out of a Christopher Lee movie, and the last two were both in dirty suits, most likely the same ones they had been buried in.
"Your money or your blood!" Lugosi squeaked and began to giggle like he was high; convinced he'd just said the cleverest thing in the world. The others ignored him and advanced, the suits slightly faster than the punks.
"Or your life, old son. The phrase is 'Your money or your life'. Proceeded by 'Stand and deliver'. Not that it matters. You're getting neither." Pete gave each of the vampires a contemptuous look. "If I didn't know what you are, I'd suggest that you piss off and save yourself the trouble, but I do know." He caught Black Leather 1 with a spray of hot-knives. While the demons could bounce back from most injuries, they were also highly flammable. The vamp went up like a bundle of kindling. The second leaped at -- and through -- Kitty. He slammed into the wall.
Pryde grabbed a bit of splintering board and broke off a piece. Within five seconds she was in the back of the alley and had thrust it into Dorkula. He looked down at his chest and began to giggle madly. "I knew it! I am truly immortal! Beyond the point where puny weapons such as--"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Kitty said as she let go of the makeshift stake and it became solid again. As he exploded into dust it never had a chance to hit the ground. She staked one of the fledglings, almost in passing, and went after the punk who was just now picking himself off the ground.
"Amazing." Pete said, smiling softly. It turned into a savage grin as he saw the last suit trying to sneak away. "I don't think so, toerag," he snarled. He punched it hard in the stomach before beheading it with a hot-knife. Wisdom turned back to see Kitty still fighting the last vamp. "Now yer just playing with it."
"It isn't much of a workout, but it's better than nothing," she replied conversationally, not at all out of breath. "But you're right, we probably should get going." She finished it off, and brushed off the dust.
Spike wove through the alleyways, lurking. Not that he could do much of anything... not anything interesting, anyway. But old habits die hard, so to speak, and this one had more than a century behind it. He spotted the couple straight off and started to follow them. To stay in practice, that's all. And if something did happen he could jump in, work off some steam... get on the Slayer's good side -- He stopped short at that thought. He was not trying to kiss up to Summers, he wasn't. Besides, it wouldn't work. What the hell was wrong with him? The only thing he should be thinking about her at all was ways to kill her.
He broke off that train of thought and concentrated on the couple again. He blinked as the vampires came out of the alley. "The Christopher Lee wannabe has a coven?" He shook his head in amusement. Harmony had sired the idiot months before, back when they were still together. Spike was surprised he was still alive and kicking -- well, kicking anyway. He swatted away the thought that the Slayer might find this kind of amusing and drew in closer.
It was completely unnecessary, though. The couple was in the middle of dispatching the vamps with brutal efficiency. Spike filed the information away and returned to the shadows.
Twenty minutes later they sat in the corner booth of a grubby diner. Pete ordered coffee for both of them and told the waitress that they were meeting a couple of people and would order when they arrived. After about five minutes or so a young man about Pryde's age, perhaps a bit younger, joined them. He was of middling height, and had brown eyes and black hair that showed red at the roots. He looked like a musician, right down to the torn jeans and a T-shirt from an obscure band. Not at all what you expected a werewolf to look like.
"Daniel Osborne, Katherine Pryde." Wisdom said nothing else by way of introduction. "I wouldn't start t' tell us what's what just now. We still have to wait on Mike."
The young man raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
It was another ten minutes until she showed. The stick thin, almost -- but not quite -- short girl slid into the booth with a nod at Pete and suspicious glares at Pryde and Osborne. "You're buying, right?"
"Yes I'm bloody feedin' you." Pete rolled his eyes. "Michaela Jennings, Daniel Osborne, Katherine Pryde." The girl frowned as he said her name and glared at the other two again.
The waitress came around and took their orders. "Let's get down to it then. Oz, anything you've seen that's out of the ordinary, tell us. Mike, if you've been sneaking around in people's heads and noticed something, tell us."
Oz raised an eyebrow and glanced at Mike. She frowned more deeply and gulped down coffee. After a moment, a presence joined Pete in his head. Who the fuck are these people. You didn't say anything about this. Okay, sure, wolf-boy checks out, but I can't even get a read on the chick.
"That's because she's used to telepaths, Pyre. Usually ones a bit more polite than you, but she was taught to shield by some of the best in the business. So was I, but I trust you not to muck around up here and I know it makes you nervous not to be able to read people, so I let you. As to who she is, Pryde's my partner. If you can tell me something, you can tell her. Got it?"
After giving everyone long hard looks she shrugged. "Yeah, capishe and all that." She dug in her pocket, produced a battered pack of cigarettes and lit one that was bent out of shape. "I haven't noticed anything yet other than most of the people here are sheep. Pathetically so." After a few drags, she sucked down another cup of coffee with a sickening amount of sugar and cream in it.
Oz took a few sips out of his own mug. "The Initiative seems a lot more active than usual lately. I've only just got back to Sunnydale, but it's weirdness." He shrugged. "We should really get in touch with the Scoobies on this. Only problem with that is that Riley is in the Initiative."
"An' Riley would be?" Wisdom asked a bit gruffly.
"Buffy's- the Slayer's- boyfriend."
"That could help us or hurt us depending on how much of a company man he is." Pete took out his own cigarettes, looked at them for a moment, then put them away again. "All of this seems to be in keeping with what we know, with Miller there and all."
"Who's Miller?" Mike asked, setting down her coffee cup.
"Doctor Warren Miller, formerly of Black Air. Specialist in bioengineering and genetics, as well as an accomplished demonologist." Kitty said in a calm voice. She turned to Pete. "It was most likely his idea to try to raise the demon under London." Her attention went back to the girl and the wolf. "Apparently he prefers unwilling subjects, human or otherwise, whenever possible."
"This is a lot worse than Dr. Walsh then." Oz said, frowning. "What's Black Air though?"
"They were an off-shoot of British Intel. Nasty lot. Started out all right, but by the end they were proud of people like Miller." Pete half seemed to be saying it for his own benefit. "Supposedly they were to investigate and police paranormal activities, but by the time they took over from W.H.O. they were heavy into anti-mutant tech and dabbling in the dark arts." Pete looked away from all of them but Kitty. "I was one of their operatives." He lit a cigarette while the waitress placed bowls of soup or plates of salad in front of them.
The awkward silence prevailed until she refilled the coffee and left again. "You used to what?" Oz said quietly, his voice a low growl.
Pyre's eyes had narrowed into slits and she went dead still, poised to fight or flee at the slightest provocation.
"I started out in MI-6, but was transferred to Black Air not long after. As far as I can tell, things were on the up and up back then. It wasn't pretty or anything -- Intel never is, Bond flicks aside -- but it needed to be done. Then there was a changing of the guard and they started bringing in people like Scratch and giving ones like Miller free rein. By the time I met up with Pryde an' her lot..." He rubbed at his forehead for a moment and frowned. "Mike?"
"Sorry... It's a habit... Besides..." She shrugged and began to slurp down her soup.
"I understand. But try not to, okay? Not just 'cause it's impolite, either. If somebody knows you're a 'path they can jack you around like that pretty easily. And others have some nasty defenses." And the only reason you can get in at all is because I don't want to spook you, Pyre, me girl.
"I think I missed something." The werewolf raised an eyebrow. "But you were saying..."
"Long story short, they as good as killed a mate of mine, I found out just how low things had sunk, and I, er, resigned. So to speak..."
What the hell does that 'so to speak' bit mean? I'm letting you know I'm up here. That's being polite, right? The voice in Kitty's head was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Psylocke or Phoenix would have been embarrassed at its awkwardness. In Michaela it was almost endearing, as much personality as lack of skill. Vulnerability shining through bravado.
She projected an image of Dreamnails blowing up. The reaction was the one thing that showed the girl's age.
"Cool."
'Of course. No matter how jaded they are show a teenager an explosion and they think it's cool in some tiny corner of their mind. Though that's usually boys, not girls.' A faint smile touched Kitty's lips, and she shook her head.
Pete raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. "Mike, I want you to shadow Miller for the time being. If you're going to sneak around in people's attics, I suggest you go for the people around him, not the man himself."
"Makes sense."
"Pity your lot didn't send anybody else along. Most of 'em would make a right mess of things, but--" Wisdom broke off as Pyre looked down at her hands guiltily. "What is it?"
"They kinda sorta... don't know I'm here. The team, I mean. And most of the higher ups. Actually, all of 'em 'cept the really top brass or whatever ya call 'em are clueless. And I had to talk really fast with them. So I'm not officially here or nothin'. Well, I don't think we ever really are, but really, really not official right now."
"We'll work around it." Kitty said calmly, pushing back the impulse to be protective.
"I wouldn't worry about it, kid." Pete turned to Oz. "What's the word here then, mate?"
"Seems like most things are banding together or laying low. Word is out that the Initiative is back and then some. That and there's an ambitious new Big Bad in town, and her mindset is anyone not with her is against her. From what I've heard she's going after some kind of key."
"What to?" Pyre piped in.
Oz just shrugged. When the waitress brought the rest of their meals, Kitty looked across the table at Mike with wide eyes. "She's worse than Pete."
Oz glanced at Wisdom and Jennings. "I don't think anyone would guess who the lycanthrope at this table is."
Buffy gave Anya an odd look as she fluttered around the store, avoiding her. Shrugging, she wandered into the back room. "What's with her?"
Giles made a face and gestured at the phone at his ear. "Hmm? No, I hadn't heard about that. Can't say that it surprises me with the way he always carried on." He laughed. "Yes, quite. John... I was calling to ask you something. I understand a couple of years ago you stopped someone from raising Jaboulon?" Giles straightened in his seat. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise. It's just that I need to know who it was that was making the attempt. Some of them are showing up here and all we have is a former vengeance demon knowing that they're English and 'spies or something' and little else." He fell silent for a rather long time, except to make occasional interested noises. "I see. These people were allowed to continue after that?" His voice went cold.
Buffy came closer and sat on the desk. If she listened carefully she could hear bits of the other side of the conversation. Giles, of course, was completely aware of this though. He made a face and put the speakerphone on.
"Of course they bloody weren't. But you can never completely take these things out. They're like fucking hydras, right. Lop off the official head an' let the others go is the not-so-unofficial policy. Most of the actual agents I know don't want to go through that again and are mopping up on their own though. One in particular. Might interest you, Ripper."
Buffy raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. It was just that this guy sounded a lot like Giles did while under the influence of band candy. Only less belligerent and more dangerous.
"And how's that, John?" There was a slightly annoyed tone in Giles' voice.
"Well, for one thing he was asking about Sunnyhell. And he used to be in Black Air. And that he was the one that really took them down. But mainly because he's Aurora's nephew."
"I see..." Rupert took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Is he...?"
"Don't worry, old son, Pete's on the side of the angels." The voice on the other end of the line was amused. "He's a pub mate of mine, though I guess that kind of cancels out the last statement. Good kid... Bloody hell."
"What?"
"I just called a bloke that's thirty a kid. I'm officially old."
Giles laughed out loud. "Makes two of us John."
"Yeah, but you don't have to admit it to 'Cania. Listen, if you hear anything else about Black Air hooking up with this Initiative of yours, let me know. And say hi to Anyanka for me, will ya?"
There was a loudish noise as Anya squeaked, dropped the other extension and hid behind the counter. Buffy stuck her head out the door and stared at her.
"She heard, Conjob."
"Good. Later, Ripper." Then there was only the dial tone.
"What the hell was that about? And the Initiative doesn't exist anymore. Why would these Black Oxygen or whatever people hook up with them?" Buffy glared at her long time mentor, hands on her hips. "And while we're at it, who the hell is Conjob, how does he know Anya's full name and why is she scared of him, 'Ripper'?"
Rubert sighed. "Sit down please." He took his glasses off and wiped them off, waiting. He said nothing until she complied. "To put it concisely, Willow and Xander noticed that some of the former members of the Initiative were acting..."
The former vengeance demon chimed in. "Commando-ey again. Only lots more."
"Er... Yes... Quite. Anya has noticed some people around town that she recognizes as having had dealings with the darker elements. Belonging to two specific groups, actually." The young woman preened. "I just called an old friend to see if he knew anything about one of them."
"Okay, that explains part of it -- We still need to have a nice long talk about not telling me this stuff -- but that doesn't tell me anything about--"
"He's the Hated." Anya spoke up again.
Giles glared at her. "John's an old friend. Yes, from the time I hung out with Ethan, but I'd hardly compare the two. Apparently in certain circles, such as those that Anya used to belong to, he's known as the Hated."
"How does somebody get a nickname like 'the Hated'?" Buffy mused.
"Tricking the First into drinking holy water and then screwing all three of the Fallen over ." Anya inspected her nails. "Long story, don't ask."
"So he's on the side of the angels?"
Anya started to giggle.
"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but yes. I suppose so. And it isn't Black Air itself, but certain parties from its remnants."
"Okay, makes sense. I'm sorry I snapped at you, it's just..." She trailed off.
"You've been under a lot of stress. It's all right. I almost didn't want to tell you, but it's more serious than we first thought. You have enough to deal with as it is, with Glory after Dawn and your mother being ill."
"Yeah." She sank into the chair and looked small, like a child. "I just keep thinking, 'Why didn't Riley tell me?' I'm sure he probably doesn't know, but..." She didn't sound as though she believed her own words. "He's been acting so distant. And he gets mad at me because I talk to Angel every now and then. I'm not talking about real conversations or anything even." Anger began to shine through. "I mean, really! 'Hi. Lots of demons heading your way. They're this kind. This is why, we think. Bye.' He gets jealous about that. And most of the time I'm talking to Cordy or Wes or a couple of people I don't even know." Buffy sprang out of her seat. "And he won't talk about it. Or about anything important at all, for that manner. I mean, I have more meaningful conversations with Spike than I do with my boyfriend." She threw herself back into the chair and began to glower at nothing in particular.
Anya left the room quietly. Giles felt a flash of annoyance at being left to deal with the situation alone, but squashed it down. There was something important to be done here. He sat on the chair's arm and hugged her awkwardly. "It's all right, dear. Everything's going to be fine."
"No it isn't." There was a bit of defiance in her voice, but she hugged him back.
"How long have you been here?" There was perhaps a touch of irritation in Anya's voice, but mainly just curiosity.
"Not long."
The Slayer tensed as she heard the Cockney accent. 'Please God, don't let him have heard that. I'll never hear the end of it.'
"Just before you came through the door, in fact," Spike elaborated.
Buffy let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. The former demon came back into the room, the obedience trained vampire following her. He raised an eyebrow when Anya threw something at the Slayer.
She caught it without thinking, her reflexes working without her. She glanced at the small packaged and cheered up immediately. "Wow, thanks." Giving up a Godiva white chocolate bar was a selfless act in anyone, let alone Anya. Not that she was a bad person, but time was things like that just never occurred to her.
"Don't mention it."
Spike leaned against the wall, an I-know-something-that-you-don't look on his face. Buffy glared at him and a genuine smile -- a normal one, no nastiness about it -- slipped past the smirk for half a second. He had been in the shop for more than five minutes and had heard most of the conversation... and every word about him. Not that it meant anything in reality, but it at least gave him the illusion of a chance to cling to. And it meant she was beginning to wise up to Riley. The smirk was the only thing holding back a daft grin.
"What?" The Slayer growled.
He pretended confusion. "What do ya mean 'what'?" He laughed when she gave him another look that could kill. "All right, I give already. I saw something 'bout an hour ago I think you might be interested in. I'm quite willing to part with the information..."
"I'm not giving money this time. Talk or I hurt you." She advanced menacingly at him.
"Fair enough." His voice didn't mesh; he almost sounded upbeat. All three of them looked at him oddly. "I was walking around Yancy Street, right. And this couple was walking. There wouldn't happen t' be a cuppa tea about the place, would there?" This caused another confused look for a moment, until Giles waved him in the direction of the aforementioned beverage. "Thank you much. So anyway, I started following them. To keep in practice, like." The Watcher raised an eyebrow. "Truth be told I was effin' bored, not an uncommon occurrence these days, believe me. Besides, that isn't the best of neighborhoods at the moment. Lots of fledglings and laughable little would-be covens, but more than enough to hurt your average couple." He paused and lit a cigarette.
"And?" Anya said impatiently.
"He shrugged. "They weren't. The 'coven' -- and I have a reason for using that very idiotic term -- was pretty bloody sad, but it was still pathetic how fast they got taken out."
"So they staked them? Big deal." Anya began to look through some invoices.
"Three out of five." They all turned back to look at him. "One was burned and another had his head chopped off. The one who did that didn't have any weapons." Much to everyone's annoyance he didn't continue, just took a few drags off his cigarette.
"What do you mean they didn't use any--?" Buffy began to demand.
"The bird had a makeshift stake. The bloke projected these flame things. An' when the twats went after the bird they went through her." Spike fed out the information bit by bit, reveling in the attention. Even if she did want to hit him, she was acknowledging his presence. Bloody hell, but he had bollixed things up even more at the Bronze those few weeks ago.
Giles went into full research mode. "Explain exactly what they did, please. I can think of at least twenty species of demons each from those rather vague descriptions. Though ones that would work together..."
"Or maybe they're mutants. Like you see on the news all the time beating each other up." Anya suggested, half joking. "No, never mind. We never get any of those in Sunnydale. Hey! Maybe the Hellmouth repels mutants like it attracts demons."
"Actually, that's what I think they are. Seemed pretty damned human to me. Besides, it's like the Watcher said, finding demons with powers like that working together is pretty unlikely." Spike sat on the desk, a seat carefully chosen to be near Buffy without looking like he was trying to be near her.
Other than giving him a suspicious look she pretended not to notice. He kept back a grin.
"If these people are mutants they aren't necessarily a threat." Giles put down the massive volume he had just taken from its shelf.
"I never said they were. I just thought you ought to know about it is all," the vampire said indignantly.
"And what is it you're not saying?" the Slayer said softly.
Spike broke into full-throated laughter. "Nothing much, honest. It's just, the bloke leading the coven..." He paused for a moment, fighting mirth. "The little wanker was tryin' to sound like Bella friggin' Lugosi. It was soddin' pathetic. An' he was dressed up like something out of an old Hammer flick. I mean, he might as well have been walkin' around saying 'I vant to suck your blud' and that. Christ." With that said, Spike gave up on holding it back.
After staring at him for a moment, the Slayer began to giggle.
The next morning Pyre caught Miller's trail. The young woman was very glad she had Wisdom's advice-- reading this one's mind would be like swimming through a sewer, she could just tell. She was happy not to have to think up an excuse not to. He looked like an okay guy, but there was something about the eyes... Not a coldness, not even an indication that other people were objects to him, but a simple sadism; like a little boy pulling the legs off of insects and then frying them with a magnifying glass, just to see what will happen. She had peeked at a few of the people he met with so far. Soldier boys, all of them sheep of the highest order, thinking that they were serving their country and whatever they were told to. She almost felt sorry for them, but they couldn't blame anyone but themselves for their blindness.
Mike was having damned little trouble avoiding being spotted. Even if she had to be within visual range of her mark- which she didn't- most people wouldn't think twice about a girl in her early teens wandering around a campus with a skateboard on a Saturday morning. And if they did, it wasn't anything a bit of low level rearranging wouldn't fix. The moral question in that never even occurred to her. To her things had always been eat or be eaten and always would be.
She lightly brushed at a new presence and backed away. The mind was like stagnant water or a sewer. Pyre went down a sidewalk, putting in a couple half hearted ollies for anyone who might be looking. This one wasn't a sheep, not in the least. She'd have to go in further, though God knew it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but she needed a visual too.
He wasn't much to look at. Somewhat short, slightly chubby, thinning light brown hair. Sort of kindly looking actually.
Michaela stopped dead in her tracks when she got a clear look at her face. The skateboard didn't and only a last moment and instinctual move kept her from creating a huge racket and drawing attention to herself. She sat on the ground behind a bush and shook silently.
She was still there half an hour later when a group of kids about her own age found her.
Continued in part 3