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Sunnydale Mercy Hospital
Late Evening
Xander's POV
"It appears that all is in readiness," Zabuto said after examining the ingredients and the book containing the spell. "It appears that your new resources here in Sunnydale were indeed up to the challenge. Kendra? Patrol this floor, quietly, and do what you can to keep the hospital staff away from here. Gently."
A nod was all the Jamaican girl did in reply before leaving the room.
Well, at least this confirms that Tala's mind muddying did its job, he thought with a bit of relief. A whole five minutes in the same room with me and she didn't do anything other than stare at the floor.
Indeed Kendra made Willow look downright bold when it came to how she acted around him and it gave him the feeling that she'd been living in seclusion for most of her life. Just her, her Watcher, and her Calling. It struck him as wrong since in his mind it was a hero's, a champion's, ties to this world that made them strong while compelling them to fight their absolute hardest. To give Kendra nothing more than her duty and maybe Zabuto to live for…
…he didn't like the girl's prospects for the future.
Still, it would probably best to focus on the present, he thought watching both Giles and Zabuto set up the spell. If Zabuto figures out Buffy's not a normal Slayer anymore we're all gonna have to act fast.
Once all the various ingredients had been placed around or on Buffy's bed in the right places, both Watchers took their positions before beginning to chant in a language he didn't recognize. Granted, he'd hardly made great strides learning new languages since the gang was founded but he had picked up on a few things. Still, he was able to watch as energy began to dance atop each ingredient before connections manifested between them. It was only when all were connected, though, that a new focal point was established over Buffy's still unconscious body. This matched G-Man's description of what would happen by this point but it was when a sphere of dark blue energy began to expand and it would engulf Buffy before essentially showing them the blonde Slayer's aura. Sure, the British Watcher had made it sound more complicated and mystical, but essentially that's what it was.
It would be from reading her aura that it would become clear that the demon that'd been possessing her was no longer present, leaving nothing but an ordinary Slayer.
It was an impressive form of magic and one that he might just see if Tala could teach him since being able to check to see if someone's possessed sounded like a useful spell to have.
Watching as the sphere finished engulfing Buffy as well as the bed she lay on, he prepared himself to see various different colors in numerous different patterns. Sadly it took less than two seconds for everyone present to spot a puzzling development that had all of them taking a step back.
The sphere was still expanding.
"What's going on?" Willow asked, gripping his arm tight.
"I… I don't know. We performed the spell correctly, I'm sure of it," Giles said even as he began flipping through the pages of the book containing the spell. "Perhaps there was something amiss with the ingredients. Perhaps one of them went bad and is affecting the spell."
"Unfortunate but not unexpected considering they were acquired atop a Hellmouth as active as this one," Zabuto said with mild disappointment. "Nevertheless we should still be able to gain some measure of Slayer Summers' current condition even with this anomaly. Nothing to worry about."
"While that would be ideal, Samuel, it is rarely a good idea to dismiss potential dangers when a spell does not proceed as it should," Giles said, looking like he'd found the right set of pages in the book for his needs. "We need to stop the spell and find out for certain what went amiss. Once we have this information we can fix the problem and try again later."
"A poor attempt at delaying the spell, Rupert," Zabuto chastised before turning fully to face his fellow Watcher. "Is there something you do not wish me to see about your charge?"
"Hardly. I simply believe that caution is called for in this situation," G-Man replied defensively. "Surely another day or two of delay is not too much to ask."
"Sadly it is, Rupert. Mister Travers was quite difficult to persuade when it came to what actions to take regarding your charge. It took all of my reasoning talents to convince him to allow us to cast this spell once," Zabuto said with strong certainty. "He will not be flexible enough to permit the casting of the spell a second time for so minor a deviation. It is either now or never."
"Very well. However at the first sign of physical, mental or spiritual harm we end the spell," Giles insisted, making it clear that he would not budge from this position.
"At the first sign of SERIOUS physical, mental or spiritual harm. No sooner," Zabuto said, showing that he was willing to push the envelope as far as he needed to.
Either the guy was a had some secret objective that was important enough to risk some serious consequences or something else was afoot.
He didn't like it.
He liked it even less that the sphere of magical energy was growing to the point where it might become impossible for the 'spectators' to escape its field of influence.
THAT… could be bad.
If the spell passed over him it could expose his new aptitude for sorcery, perhaps even his potential, and if that happened there'd be one helluva spotlight dropped on him. A spotlight that could make trouble not just for him but for the Scoobies, depending on how vigorous a response the revelation produced. But how could he prevent that? While he had learned a few spells, none of them were meant specifically for rendering the caster immune to a spell like this. Plus he hadn't gotten skilled enough with magic to be able to cast spells without saying the incantations out loud with the accompanying hand gestures.
In the end all he could do was wait and hope that whatever the spell revealed it wouldn't cause him any trouble.
If it did, if there was a chance it could spill over onto the others, he'd have to start thinking up ways of to minimize the damage done to them. Whether that was doing something to put the Council on the back foot or leaving Sunnydale behind he didn't know. He didn't want to leave, his entire life was here, but if intimidation and a few decisive victories didn't make the Council back off, he might not have a choice.
He could feel the magic pass over him and when it did he beheld something both amazing and confusing at the same time. With each person he looked at he could see a combination of colors, with each one possessing a different nature and appearance. Some looked like they were flowing through the person like blood through the veins, never leaving the person's body, while others wafted off of the person like smoke. He presumed that this implied that some sources were things that'd been picked up while others were native to the person's body.
From what he could see all of them, with the exception of Zabuto, had a black smokey stench rising off of them but since he could see bits of the same coming off of the floor he was betting it was Hellmouth energy. It was prevalent enough in each of them that he was willing to start looking for some sort of cleansing spell because this kind of stench sticking to a person couldn't healthy. As for anything else he could see, he spotted what COULD represent a person's aptitude for magic because it was definitely present in G-Man. However the real surprise came when he looked at his best bud Willow and found that she had a sizable aura sign that indicated she had a future in sorcery. Still it was hard to tell if Willow's potential was greater or less than Giles but it was still something of a surprise.
Looking down at himself he was a little surprised when he barely showed any potential in the realm of sorcery. He would've thought with all that he'd learned from Tala and what he'd managed on his own he would have a big glaring light of evidence glowing in his chest. Had Tala done something without telling him? Was the eye of Agamotto protecting him? He didn't know but BOY was it load off of his shoulders since it meant his new path in life would remain known only to those he trusted.
Looking to Buffy he could easily spot the differences in her aura when compared to the others but he couldn't determine what parts were the ones they hoped the Zabuto wouldn't spot. Buffy had the stench of the Hellmouth on her like the rest of them but it was the smoldering mass within her that had thin threads expanding outwards like a simple representation of the human nervous system. He didn't know if this was how a Slayer was supposed to look when the spell was cast on her but a brief glance at Zabuto showed no signs of suspicion or hostility.
Either the guy was an excellent poker player or he really didn't see anything worth raising a stink over.
All in all the spell only lasted about five minutes before whatever was powering it ran out causing the energy to fade out of existence leaving just an ordinary hospital room behind.
"It would seem you were telling me the truth, Rupert. I saw no evidence of lingering demonic possession or anything suspicious," Zabuto said with a polite grin. "Nevertheless I hope you can understand why it was necessary. A possessed Slayer is bad enough but a Trojan horse has the potential to be much worse."
"While I would've preferred to have been taken at my word, Samuel, I understand that the security of my Council must take precedence," Giles said returning the polite grin. "Now I should think you should probably notify Slayer Young that our task is done here."
"Of course. I shall leave all of you to clean up," Zabuto taking the Scoobies in briefly before turning to leave. "There must be nothing left behind aside from an odd smell in the air."
None of them said anything, not for five minutes as a precaution, but when Giles peeked out into the hallway only to turn back to them with some relief on his face.
"He is gone and I see no sign of Slayer Young," Giles said, sounding very much like they'd dodged a bullet.
He was almost tempted to say 'that you could see' but he didn't want to jink them. They'd saved Buffy from a demon possession, he'd managed to KO a Slayer albeit with boxed spells and a spell that could've dumped a whole lot of shit in their lap had passed by without incident. He was willing to ride this wave of good fortune for as long as it lasted before the usual Hellmouth luck brought some new nightmare to their front steps.
When life kept sending you lemons you had to make the most of the chances you got to make lemonade.
A Higher Plane of Existence
"All went according to plan and no one suspected anything."
"Of course it did. Mental adjustments are easiest to make when the target's intentions are a close match. Samuel Zabuto will never consider that his attempt to expose potential threats had been rigged from the beginning."
"Even if Travers and the rest of the Council examine Zabuto's memories they'll find nothing to suggest that Alexander Harris is anyone of note. Indeed they will have much bigger concerns to deal with."
"Are you sure it was wise to allow Zabuto to see the changes done to Slayer Summers? Unconventional she might be but we could've gotten more use of out of her had we concealed the damage Eyghon did."
"A necessary sacrifice. Having Travers and the Council focus on Summers will ensure they don't look at Harris and, to be honest, she should've died at the hands of the Master. With any luck Travers will tie off that loose end and with one less distraction Harris will focus more on his arcane studies."
"It is proceeding well, given how he faced Slayer Young and aided in the expulsion of Eyghon from this dimension. If he continues to progress like this it will be only a few years at best before he'll be capable of such magic on his own."
"Agreed. Still, we should conceive of a few tests to ensure that Tala is properly adjusting his way of thinking. His increased arcane proficiency will do us little good if he will not heed our guidance."
"Not an easy task. So long as Slayer Summers remains unconscious it will be Watcher Zabuto and Slayer Young who will be handling Sunnydale's nightlife. Given standard Council doctrine regarding involving outsiders, friction between the two groups is likely."
"It will be especially difficult since the one thing that might make them reconsider is the one thing we have just done our best to hide. The Watchers Council might be a useful tool for combatting the darkness but it has more holes in its security than they think. If they learned of Alexander's true potential, the information may trickle into the hands of others it would be best kept out of."
"Then we shall wait. Sooner or later something will occur that we can turn to our advantage and then we will see if the fruit of Tala's labor is sweet or sour."
San Francisco, California
A Few of Weeks Later
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all," he muttered to himself, looking up the walkway to the front door of the house before him.
Still, as much as he wanted to say he could handle things on his own, none of the portents said what was ahead was something to sneeze at. Things'd been off for awhile and Orchid had been zoning out more times than he was comfortable with, but the real thumper was the spell that got cast a couple of weeks ago. He was pretty sure what happened had a few members of the top hat and cauldron crowd hitting the books to figure out what they were dealing with.
Too bad he wasn't much for reading; he was more of a hands on kinda guy.
At least until he managed to trace the spell back to its source, that is. Once that happened he thought it might be a bit of a lightbulb moment to get some backup before heading in. Hellmouths had a habit of corrupting people who lived on'em, or even paid them a visit, especially those with a talent for magic. Sure, you wouldn't go dark from just an hour or two there but it was the other part of being on a Hellmouth that had him worried. Some people who liked to sling the mojo deliberately went to Hellmouths because there were assorted ways of getting juiced up by them. Turn a small timer into a major player if he played his cards right, but there was always a bill to pay in those cases, either right away or a few years down the road. Based on the background info he dug up on the town, it'd been around long enough for all manner of darkness to set up shop there.
If he had the time he'd ask around to find out who the players were in Sunnydale but he had a sinking feeling that time was something he was short on.
In places like Sunnydale, where demons, vampires and sorcerers made up a quarter of the population, a natural pecking order cropped up sooner or later. It was made clear who the rulers were and who the ruled were. If it was done right, a status quo was set up and anyone that got bright ideas about changing it got squashed in a hurry before they could do anything. If it was done wrong it'd be bloody anarchy until someone strong enough, scary enough, or smart enough figured out how to get everyone to line up behind them.
Seeing as how Sunnydale had been around for almost a century without anything big enough to make half the papers in America, it was a safe bet that someone was running a tight ship.
WAS being the key word.
If he was right the spell that'd shaken things up a couple of weeks ago was the final blow to a changing of the guard on the Hellmouth. The problem with changing of the guard is that it didn't necessarily end with a single shot and sometimes the lieutenants put up a fight to hold onto the slice of the pie they'd had under the old guard. Seeing as how Sunnydale still had a population of people as far as the public was concerned it easy to see how messy things could get.
Better to nip things in the bud while the fire was still small.
So with time running out and things potentially being bigger and louder, he'd come looking for help.
Just hope she's forgiven me for that weekend in Manchester, he thought, striding towards the front door after taking a nice calming breath.
Sure, it'd been fun at the time, but even he had to admit that perhaps they shouldn't have let the whiskey put in its two cents because obviously the attractive drink had one helluva silver tongue. He'd tried to brush it off as no big deal but this wound up backfiring on him bloody spectacularly and there'd been none of the usual signs that she'd gotten over it.
Still she was one of the few people he trusted to watch his back who was close enough to ground zero that picking her up wouldn't slow him down much.
Upon reaching the door he reached out and pushed the doorbell before waiting to see what sort of response he'd get. For a few moments there was nothing but eventually his ears picked up the sound of sneaker-wearing feet approaching the door from the other side. Putting on his best 'long time no see' face, he wanted for her to open the door…
…but never could he have expected what he'd see once the door opened.
He'd seen her in her work clothes, he'd seen her all prettied up for a date, and once he'd even seen her prepared for some suit filled meeting.
He had NEVER seen her in a tank top, short-shorts and sneakers with her hair looking like it hadn't seen a comb in a week. Honestly it was sort of comforting to know that there was this side to her but he had a feeling she never would've opened the door if she'd known he was standing on the other side.
When the cross look showed itself and she slammed the door shut, he knew for certain that the door would've remained shut if she'd known he was waiting for her.
At least she hasn't activated any wards or security spells, he thought, knowing that anyplace she called home would have arcane defenses in case of uninvited guests.
She might not go looking for trouble but that didn't stop her from doing something about it when something was happening right in front of her. That made enemies and that wasn't even taking into account the people who might have a bone to pick with her because of her old man. Showing everyone that she was more than a pretty face, she'd taken some precautions to ensure that if she couldn't neutralize a threat they could buy time for help to come riding in.
Her old flame with the pointy ears living in Gotham.
It was a little under ten minutes later that she came back and, while it wasn't her stage clothes, it was definitely more respectable.
"What do you want, John?" she asked, sounding like she'd say no unless his answer was better than average.
"Can't a man pay a friend a visit?" he asked with his best smile.
All she did was cross her arms and narrow her eyes at him, as if to say 'get on with it'.
"Was planning on checking something out a ways south of here," he replied, still keeping things casual. "Bit of a rough town it is so I thought I'd see if you wanted to come along for a bit of fun. Interested?"
"What're you talking about?" she asked, sounding like she might have a clue but it was still buried in her subconscious.
"Remember a spell that got cast a few weeks ago?" he asked, deciding to paint her a picture. "The one that showed someone the door out of our dimension and locked it behind them? Thought I'd do a bit of digging. Problem is I tracked the source down: it's in a quaint little town called Sunnydale."
"You're going to the Hellmouth?! Are you crazy?!" she asked in shock. "It's dangerous there!"
"Sure it is. Thing is that if there's been a change in the nightlife lineup in Sunnydale, someone should probably go find out what it is," he said, not sounding TOO worried. "Before whoever or whatever it is decides to step into the spotlight on their terms."
"Sunnydale's been a deathtrap for almost a hundred years, John," she said, not sounding convinced that there was a problem on the horizon. "The crown must've changed heads half a dozen times without trouble spilling out of that town."
"Maybe, but the pecking order's never changed with a spell going off that anyone capable of lighting a candle with a finger snap could feel happening," he pointed out, taking on a more serious tone. "You know as well as I do that getting info about the goings on in Sunnydale is like charming a one night stand out of a nun. So what do you think happened this time to let something slip past the censors?"
This time he could tell he had her thinking about it. REALLY thinking about it.
Not surprising, really. Magic, demons and the like had been part of the planet's history for millennia and then all of a sudden it's all shoved into a neat little box called fiction. How did that happen? Why did it happen? Who was behind it all? Fact of the matter was all the different sides were still going at it but instead of a hot war it'd shifted into a cold war, with all the players recognizing the benefits of keeping things low key. Things tended to go a lot smoother when the sheep didn't know there were wolves prowling about until they'd gotten their guts ripped out. Not everyone on each side liked keeping things quiet and under the radar, preferring a return to the old ways. Most times troublemakers were dealt with in house but sometimes sides with a vested interest in the status quo would form temporary alliances.
It was when something happened that broke this low profile that you worried.
"And you came to me for help?" she asked, sounding like she was halfway to where he wanted her.
"Times a factor in these sorts of things and there's only so many people I know on the west coast of America," he replied, keeping it simple. "None of them can hold a candle to you, luv."
For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of the sort of fire that'd have her doing a one eighty and slamming the door in his face again. Instead she rolled her eyes in the 'I am probably going to regret this' way, sighed, and with a snap of her fingers changed into her work clothes.
"Fine. If someone's planning on ignoring the veil of secrecy, getting some of the details is the smart move," she said, closing the door behind her and probably activating her security system. "But that's ALL we're doing. We find out what's going on and if it's big, we pass on what we've learned to whoever's in charge of keeping a lid on the supernatural around here. They'll shut whoever it is down and it'll be end of story."
"Whatever you say, Z," he said even though he knew it wouldn't turn out that way.
Say what you will about the lady but she didn't have it in her to turn her back on something bad happening right in front of her. Oh, she might put up a bit more of a fuss than most but, when it was crunch time, she'd do her Da proud.
As for him?
He could use some good karma so he'd pitch in when he needed to.
Every little bit helped, right?
Sunnydale, California
The Home of a Substitute Teacher
Willow's POV
"I think you might've overdone it a bit, Willow," Xander said as they looked at the aftermath of her first spell learned from the contents of his Sanctum Sanctorum.
She couldn't disagree with him.
In the days that'd followed them freeing Giles from the demon Eyghon and fooling Watcher Zabuto about Buffy, she'd been unable to ignore a painful fact. A mentor figure had been in danger and she hadn't been able to do anything to help. A friend had been possessed by a demon and she hadn't had the first clue what to do but desperately look through Giles' books for something she could use. Buffy had been put in danger by the same people who were supposed to help her and she'd been at a loss. For the most part this hadn't felt like anything new, it'd felt like more of the same, but there'd been a splinter beneath her skin that refused to leave her alone just the same. If she had to call it anything it'd be… frustration.
Frustration born of not seeing the world for what it truly was.
Frustration born of seeing the various ways the supernatural could be fought and knowing it'd take her years before she'd be able to use any of it in real combat.
Frustration at the likelihood that unless something changed she might get left behind.
By everyone.
EVERYONE.
In the end she'd decided to do something about it and that was to demand that Xander begin teaching her the things he'd learned from Tala. She didn't care if it was stuff he'd already mastered weeks ago. She'd never lagged behind him in the entire time they'd been friends and she told him she refused to stay that way.
She would catch up no matter what it took!
Knowing better than to try and talk her out of anything he'd started with the very first lesson Tala had given him, figuring it was as good a place to start as anywhere. From that day on he'd taught her what he'd learned and she'd dedicated herself to mastering it.
Without letting her school grades suffer, of course.
While she wanted to help her friends defend the Hellmouth that didn't mean she was willing to sacrifice the life she'd envisioned for herself prior to meeting Buffy. Maybe not follow her parents into the same field, but perhaps something more along the lines of engineering or the growing domain of computer sciences. If she wanted to do that then she needed to keep her grades as high as she could in order to get into the colleges that specialized in the things she needed to know. If she could get grades high enough to earn a scholarship to one of those colleges then maybe… maybe her parents would spend more time with her than with their careers.
Maybe.
The latest lesson she'd been taught by Xander had been the manipulation of the eight magical elements, albeit at the most basic level. Fire, ice, lightning, water, earth, wind, light and darkness were all known as well as commonly practiced. She'd read the books Xander had been provided on the subject and had attacked the subject with the same fervor as all the ones that came before. When the time came for practical training, though, it proved a bit more difficult but she had still made significant progress.
Tonight, though, had been the first time she'd put it to use, so she MIGHT have overdone it a bit.
"Hey, she's down, isn't she?" she asked rhetorically, pointing at the twitching demonic Praying Mantis on the floor of the basement. "And still alive, I might add."
Considering the fact that she'd manipulated the electricity in the house with the intent of killing the demon, it was something of a failure but Xander didn't need to know that.
"Maybe, but who knows when she'll be conscious enough to talk," Xander said, using telekinesis to lift the demon off the floor. "We'll take her to the Sanctum. Tala's already working on a containment spell in a room."
"Why are we not slaying the demon?" she asked with some confusion. "It's what we do, right?"
"We're not killing her because we need to know if there're more like her in the area or on their way," Xander replied, heading for the stairs. "We got lucky that this one decided to be the substitute for our teacher. No guarantee others'll do the same."
"While I applaud your reasoning, Xander, I doubt we have much to worry about," Giles said coming down from his inspection of the upper floors of the house. "Demons of this variety tend to be loners. Something about not wanting to share territory with one another."
"Doesn't hurt to play it safe. Get useful info out of her about the things that go bump in the night in California," Xander said, walking past Giles. "She might've heard stuff we don't know about."
"Very well. So long as the necessary precautions are taken," Giles said, conceding the point
"Duh! I'm not that stupid," Xander said over his shoulder as he vanished from sight.
No.
No, he wasn't and, from what she could tell, he was really starting to believe in himself more since he'd begun his instruction in the field of magic. It was both great as well as sad at the same time. She'd been trying for years to get her best friend to see that he was so much more than just Tony and Jessica Harris' son. She wanted him to see what she did and that was an intelligence that with some hard work as well as time could rise to the top ten of the advanced classes they shared. Unfortunately all her previous attempts had either ended in failure, or so little progress that it almost hadn't been worth the effort. The self-image that her friend's DNA donors had beat into him was quite ingrained and even though you'd think that her words would be the most effective that turned out not to be the case.
Now, though, under Tala's instruction, she was beginning to see baby steps being taken in Xander's development and she had no doubt that with time they'd become full strides before evolving into a run. Some might wonder what variable was making Xander try so hard but for someone who knew him like her the answer wasn't hard to deduce.
Learning magic and becoming good at it was a path that'd lead him away from his roots, towards something greater than anything his 'parents' could ever hope to be. Xander didn't show it often and almost never when other people were around, but within him there existed an anger that he kept a tight lid on that he only removed when someone crossed one of his major lines. While the most recent anger had been born of Jesse's turning and dusting, the oldest as well as the strongest had his parents as the cooks responsible. For as long as she could remember they'd treated Xander like crap, doing everything they could to make him believe that the way his life was all it ever would be. The time he spent at her house or Jesse's had been escapes from the hell that was his home and probably more precious than diamonds to him.
Not more precious than Twinkies, no, but she was okay with that.
When Buffy had come to Sunnydale he'd gotten his first taste that something different was possible for him, albeit a dangerous something. Since the founding of the Scoobies, she'd seen his confidence grow both from what he'd been able to accomplish as well as what he'd been able to survive. Nothing boosted the ego quite so much as surviving things most other people wouldn't and killing monsters that'd make most people piss themselves if they ever met them. It was a safe bet that if Tony or Jessica ever experienced half the things Xander had, they'd either run away, piss themselves or faint on the spot.
Now, with what he'd picked up from Doctor Strange, Xander had the opportunity to become more than a sidekick and, while he might not consciously realize this, she had a feeling his subconscious had. As a result he was applying himself to his lessons and not goofing around the way he often did with the more standard high school classes. He might be getting good grades thanks to his intelligence but her periodic prodding kept him from getting distracted, or giving into the slander people sent his way. With his magic lessons she hadn't needed to prod him at all but rather needed to remind him not to neglect his standard classes and the associated grades.
She reminded him that the only job openings for sorcerers in this world were stage magicians and that was a tough act to break into if your goal was to make money.
Still, nothing had happened since Halloween to make her think that she might need to get some back up to make sure Xander dialled back his magic lessons and turn his school dial up.
She'd keep an eye on things just the same, though, just in case.
Looking to where the eggs of the Praying Mantis demon were located she asked, "Shouldn't we do something about those?"
"Without the necessary ingredient for fertilization they're harmless," Giles replied, not sounding too concerned. "What are the odds that someone is going to come across them and know that a virgin's… seed… is needed to make the eggs viable?"
He had a point.
Plus, if they left them alone, they could be a useful bargaining chip to pry some facts from the Praying Mantis demon's mouth should she decide to pull a mime routine on them.
"Let's be sure to lock the door on our way out," she said, nodding to the Watcher. "Just to play it safe."
With that they left the house to see to their after action duties before going to bed so as to be reasonably rested for school tomorrow.
An Abandoned Warehouse
Sunnydale, California
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Don?" Rob asked looking at the crate that'd just been delivered to their lair.
"Course it is, Rob! With Wilkins dead and Spike dusted, the Hellmouth's wide open for new management," Don replied not sounding worried even as he worked the crowbar to get the lid off the crate. "Everyone who's anyone is gonna make a play for it so I say we throw our hat in the ring."
"But we've only been undead for fifty years, Don. How we gonna compete with the others?" Rob asked just before the lid popped off.
"This is how, Rob," Don replied with a smile on his game face. "Found out about it at Willy's not long after Wilkins bought it. Sure, it's only one piece, but I got lines on the others. We play this right and everyone's gonna be shivving at the sight of us!"
Looking at the armored limb inside, Rob couldn't quite shake the feeling that they might be biting off a little more than they could chew with this one. Sure, he didn't like being reduced to a minion for one demon or some master vampire a hundred or more years old, but this might be a step too far for them. Still, Don hadn't steered him wrong yet and the fact that they'd both made it to fifty years old as vampires was a big vote in his best bud's favor.
Worse came to worse they'd just bail on Sunnydale and find someplace else to make something of themselves.
He heard there was a great place in New Jersey where a dead body or three wouldn't even warrant a glance.
Sunnydale High School
The Library
After School Hours
Giles' POV
"So did you guys get anything from the bug lady?" Willow asked after coming through the doors to the library.
"Yes, we did," he replied, instantly feeling the understatement of those words. "You may wish to sit down for this."
He could tell that his charges recognized the tone of his voice but to drive the point he took his glasses off to clean them somewhat. He'd overheard them humorously referring to this practice as the 'Giles maneuver' and that he only performed it during truly dire circumstances. If this helped cause them to take what he was about to say seriously he had no qualms about reinforcing their preconception.
"It would seem that more is going on in Sunnydale than I originally thought. After Halloween I assumed that there would be some shift in the demonic hierarchy. However I thought it would be nothing more than one of Spike's lieutenants claiming his throne. But there are signs that the power vacuum is greater than one single destroyed master vampire. Much greater," He explained as he recalled what they'd managed to pry out of the demon. "While still in the early stages, I fear we may be looking at the supernatural equivalent of a gang war in Sunnydale."
"B-but Buffy's here! And Kendra!" Willow exclaimed, her mind no doubt picturing how unpleasant things might become.
"Buffy is still unconscious with no signs of awakening anytime soon," he pointed out grimly. "As for Kendra, I have forwarded our findings to Watcher Zabuto so he can prepare but it might not be enough. A Slayer is a potent deterrent against demonic and supernatural activity but it is far from absolute. While there are threats that Kendra could face with little if any preparation, the more dangerous demons and dark magic practitioners would need a sizable time advantage to defeat. Some would even require requesting reinforcements from the Council."
"And some of those would be coming here?" Xander asked with a concerned frown on his face.
"I do not know. 'Miss French' did not seem to be privy to the specifics but what little she did reveal in our presence implied much," he replied, recalling the answers the demon provided. "As part of my training we are required to recognize various signs that indicate the presence of certain threats and players of note. In some cases it is to know to flee while in others it is to prepare to eliminate the threat before it has a chance to take root. Some of what the demon said matched some of the criteria but not enough for me to be certain."
Indeed, since the day he'd arrived in Sunnydale he'd made 'friends' with some of the locals that were privy to the flow of resources normally used by demons or dark magic users. Whenever he met new people who had the potential to be useful he checked to see if they should be added to his list of sources to tap. As of two weeks ago he'd been getting regular calls informing him of odd purchases being made, as well as rumors of property being purchased that'd previously been vacant for a good while. When he'd gone over the list of purchases as well as what was known about the properties, from their locations to their previous owners to any special attributes the buildings might have, it did not take him long to spot the concerning signs.
What he'd seen were not the clues one would get from those who'd inhabited Sunnydale long before he'd come to the Hellmouth, but of someone new.
Possibly many someones.
"So what do we do?" Willow asked, a speck of fear entering her voice.
"Remain alert and be ready to aid Samuel and Slayer Young should they need it," he replied even though he shared their disapproval that manifested on their faces. "With Buffy still in the hospital we lack the proverbial 'muscle' to take more aggressive action. Samuel will also likely be resistant to any active help we attempt to provide until circumstances make it foolish for him not to accept our aid."
"In other words just before the point of no return," Xander said with a frown of disapproval. "Kind of a tight window to do anything before it all goes to hell."
"If matters do become more serious I can try to approach Samuel and persuade him to accept our support," he said, trying to reassure the youths before him. "He is not as…obtuse…as some other members of the Council and is open to reason. So long as his position and authority are shown the proper respect, that is."
Indeed it was a rather prestigious position to be the Watcher assigned to an active Slayer and it was also a sign of the governing body's recognition of the Watcher's ability. As such, offers of assistance needed to be phrased in a way that did not imply a slight to that ability in the slightest. Fortunately he had experience dealing with such people after his father arranged for his return to the ranks of future Watchers at the academy, so he was fairly sure he could manage something.
"Well then, while you try to talk some common sense into your Watcher buddy, I'm going to see if Tala can teach me anything that's useful in a fight," Xander said as he got out of his chair. "Probably going to need it soon."
"Are you certain you wish to do so, Xander?" he asked with some measure of caution. "Given the measures taken to ensure that your growing proficiency in magic remained a secret, learning to use them for combat would seem counterproductive."
"I don't want the spotlight shining on me anymore than the rest of us but it's not worth innocent lives," Xander replied, his look of resolve not wavering. "I'll do what I can to help on the sly but if Zabuto sees, then he sees. If he's half the man you are he won't put anything ungrateful in his reports to your bosses."
"And if he isn't?" Willow asked, no doubt thinking that the other side of the coin needed to be considered.
"Then we see which way the wind blows and do what we have to," Xander replied, heading for the door to the library. "But I am NOT going to work for idiots."
No chance of him working for Travers then, he thought with a bit of dry humor. Too bad that particular idiot has a hard time taking 'no' for an answer.
"I'm gonna go home and study more of that book Xander gave me," Willow said, moving to follow her friend's example. "If things are going to get bad, I want to be able to help."
"Very well. Just try not to be too ambitious," he warned gently. "It takes time to learn magic properly and I have witnessed many times when the impatient have attempted to skip a few chapters. None of those incidents ended well."
"Don't worry, I won't," Willow said as she reached the doors. "I'd be pretty lousy help if I hurt myself before the fighting even started."
He chose not to tell her that the consequences of impatient learning of sorcery could be quite a bit more dire than simply being hurt. Back at the Watcher academy every lesson was structured in order to give the student what they needed for the one that followed culminating in a test at the end of the year where you needed to utilize what you learned from all of them in order to pass. It was much the same way with learning magic and fortunately, from what Xander had told him of his extracurricular lessons, Tala was following much the same path. While she might be a specially chosen instructor picked by the Powers That Be, he had still felt some concern where Xander learning magic was concerned. After a little while and some causal questions, though, he'd been reassured to learn that Tala wasn't being reckless with her lesson plan in order to make something of Xander sooner rather than later.
He still occasionally wondered what the Powers had planned for Xander to arrange an instructor but he presumed that there were simply grooming another Champion.
Always a good thing.
RING! RING!
Turning to his office, he wondered who could be calling him since the number he'd received had gone down since Buffy was put in the hospital. Walking over to where the phone rested he picked up the receiver and put it to his ear.
"Sunnydale High School library. How may I help you?" he asked, falling into the role of librarian easily.
"Heheheheh… always makes me laugh hearing you talk like that, Ripper," came a voice on the other side of the call. "Almost makes me want to give your nose a good tweak for old times sake."
"Do it and I will inform Gertrude where those bodies are buried, Percy," he snapped, recognizing on of his contacts in Sunnydale.
Percy was a hybrid of a demon species that was only somewhat hostile towards humans and had a fondness for a particular brand of ale that only places that catered to the nightlife offered. As such the man heard things that wouldn't make it past any zipped lips that often manifested whenever a Watcher or a Slayer swung by the place looking for answers. So long as he made sure to be somewhat hazy with how he acted on whatever Percy told him they had a mutually beneficial relationship.
"Easy, easy! No need to get testy," Percy said, reigning in his humor a bit. "Just heard something I thought you might want to know about. Turns out someone's bought the old WW Two bunker and is planning on opening something new to draw in the gullible and the drunk."
"While disappointing I fail to see the concern for another bar like the Alibi Room opening up," he said, making a note to inform Samuel.
"Oh, this ain't like that shit hole. According to what I heard it's connected to this church club they got in Metropolis," Percy said, quickly dismissing the comparison to Willy's bar. "They're calling the new place Wildfire, or something like that. Plays into the whole rebel culture, stick it to the man, aesthetic but they're paying top coin for their booze and I know the guy they've got working the kitchen."
The description of a church bar in Metropolis caused some light bells to ring in his head but he still couldn't put a name to it but his instincts were on edge.
"Is there anything in particular that has you worried?" he asked, hoping Percy might have something more for him about the new establishment.
"Word is the owner of the Metropolis club'll be spinning by soon to check up on the new investment's progress. Thing that's got me worried though is that some of the 'people' that usually haunt the area are making plans to find new stomping grounds," Percy replied, sounding a bit edgy himself. "Some of these guys've been hanging out there since the foundation for Sunnydale got laid down. It'd take something big to get'em to move someplace else even if it's just a few blocks."
Now that was indeed something worth knowing.
The 'people' Percy was referring to were likely demons and most demons that weren't human enough in appearance to acquire an apartment or a house tended to lay claim to acceptable substitutes. The more bestial or primal the species of demon, the more territorial they tended to become of the land they claimed, often to the point where they would be willing to fight for it. While he would have to check his files to get specifics on which breed of demon had laid claim to the land around the abandoned bunker, it was odd that a new club opening would provoke such a response in them. The only thing he could think of was that the owner of the club was powerful and had a reputation strong enough that the inhabitants of the area weren't interested in a fight.
Most of them had perfectly functional survival instincts, after all.
"Any indication as to who this owner is? Do you have a name?" he asked in the hopes that he could get something to help him with his research.
"Sorry. The ones that were chatty about the new club clammed up pretty tight when they caught onto the possibility that the owner might not like loose lips," Percy replied with mild regret at lacking an answer. "Sorry Ripper."
"No worries. Thank you for calling, Percy," he said, his mind already thinking of ways to build off of this new information. "I'll make sure the usual payment is deposited in your account."
"Keep it. Your Slayer might be in the hospital but I know you're gonna look into it anyways. Thing is, I've got a bad feeling about this tidbit, Ripper," Percy said firmly in the face of his usual response. "Wouldn't feel right taking your money only for you to get killed 'cause of what I told you. Just… don't go making an enemy of this newcomer unless you have to. Gertrude likes having you over every once in awhile."
This had the desired effect of making the new information heavier than it'd been a minute prior. Percy might not've been greedy but he appreciated the benefits of passing along information well enough. To refuse payment and even warn him against acting was not something to take lightly.
"That will depend entirely on what this new club owners does," he said into the phone. "Thank you, Percy, and tell Gertrude to go easy on the Fire Worm scales in her next casserole."
Hanging up the phone, he admitted that, while interesting, trying some of the food Gertrude cooked, some of it he wound up paying for afterwards.
The Sanctum Sanctorum
Xander's POV
Maybe this'll do it, he thought reading one of the books Tala let him have access to.
The entire trip there he'd been trying to think of ways to get as ready as he could for a fight as quickly as he could without dipping into the dark side magic. The more he'd thought about it, the more he began to think that he'd been fooling himself into believing that he could approach learning magic the same way he did normal school stuff. He was living atop a Hellmouth and spent most of his free time fighting monsters. Danger was a part of both and, with Buffy in the hospital and Kendra not playing well with others, he didn't have the super powered backup he usually did to keep him alive.
If he was determined to keep fighting the good fight, he needed to take things more seriously.
Some of that meant devoting more time to Tala's lessons and reading the books found in the Sanctum, but even studying to the point of making Willow look lazy wouldn't work fast enough. From what Tala and Giles had told him, a lot of other people with potential for mojo thought the same and were willing to take shortcuts through dark places to get where they wanted to go. However those shortcuts had side effects that he wasn't willing to get saddled with, so here he was trying to come up with a plan B.
What was his plan B? Alright, calling it a 'plan' might be giving it too much credit but it was all based off of a theory that some of the person he'd become Halloween night still existed in his mind as memory fragments and the like. There were signs of it since Halloween but they'd been slight and vague, making them interesting but not useful. He thought that if he could figure out a way of tapping into those leftovers on some level, he would at least be able to slow down whatever came their way. The problem was that he knew the fragments, the leftovers, were unlikely to form a complete picture, or even a playbook, so even if he managed to access them the number of holes would prove… problematic.
So he started looking through books for inspiration that'd help him get around the problem.
And it looked like he might've just found something.
The author of the book was a little long winded and liked tossing in metaphors every other paragraph but, if what he was reading was right, there was a process that'd get him what he wanted. Essentially it'd tie the magic used in the Halloween fragments to certain situations, triggering a reaction akin to muscle memory rather than conscious thought. It didn't read like he'd be helpless to resist the reactions, just that it'd require conscious focused will to halt the response to a situation.
Nevertheless, according to the memory of Halloween night that he could consciously access, Doctor Strange implied that he had a big enough reserve of magic to use some moderate level spells in a fight. If this idea of his worked then anyone looking to cause trouble in Sunnydale would find themselves hocus pocused into mulch.
"An interesting approach, my student, but flawed," Tala said, nearly startling him into falling backward out of his chair.
"Tala! You know I hate it when you do that!" he exclaimed, reclaiming his balance before turning to face her.
"Which is why I keep doing it," Tala said with a smirk before walking forward to pick up the book on the table. "In a town like this you will inevitably encounter beings capable of concealing the presence from the basic human senses or teleporting anywhere they want to go. To survive you must make it as hard as possible for them to do either."
"I know but it doesn't make it any more fun to be on the receiving end of it," he said, conceding her point. "And what do you mean by flawed?"
"The entry in this book does tell of a way to tie memories to certain situational triggers but only memories native to the users mind," Tala replied, turning the page to read more. "The fragments of Doctor Strange in your mind are not your own memories. Using them to like you wanted could have unintended side effects. Possibly a blurring of identity, depending on how strongly you embrace them."
A logical and a valid concern.
"Maybe you can help add in some safety precautions?" he suggested, not quite willing to give up just yet. "Something to turn the magic off if too many alarms are tripped."
"It is possible. There are certain ways to forcibly terminate a spell or temporarily bolster a person's core consciousness," Tala said, tapping her chin in thought. "All would leave you temporarily disoriented, with the only variable being the duration of the disorientation. A few seconds to a full minute."
"Time enough for a cheap shot from a demon or a fatal hit," he said, imagining how things would likely to go. "Ideas?"
Tala might not have gone into any real detail about her past but he got the distinct impression that her prior career hadn't exactly been law abiding. However her lessons made it clear she knew her stuff about magic so consulting her on it would be a smart move.
"The simplest solution would be to arrange for a distraction during your period of vulnerability to keep any enemies at bay until you recover," Tala said, sounding sure of herself. "Perhaps an illusion tied to a phobia? A burst of vertigo over a certain range? It couldn't be tied to any one sense since not all demonic species share the same ones that humans do."
"I'd go with the illusion but not something they'll be afraid of. People react to fear in different ways," he said, choosing the option that suited him best. "Some attack it, some run from it, and some just freeze up. Better to make it something confusing like one of those melting clock paintings or one helluva acid trip from the seventies."
"That could work so long as they don't have experience enough with either to cope with it," Tala said, sounding in favor of the idea. "It will take some time but I should have something ready for you by tomorrow evening."
"That's quick," he said a little surprised.
"It's not like I have a lot to do when you're not here," Tala said a tad defensively. "And this temporary body doesn't need as much sleep as a real one would."
Hearing this from her reminded him of her situation, causing him to feel some sympathy. He might not know the details but he'd heard enough to know that getting a new body with only the bare minimum features needed to do a job couldn't be any fun at all. If he went through something like that, he'd probably do just about anything to get transferred into a real body as soon as possible.
Being alive but being unable to live was a hell no one should have to go through.
"Thanks, Tala," he said, putting genuine honesty and feeling into the words. "I know you probably think it's just your job but I still appreciate it."
"Don't think sweet talking me is going to get you out of any lessons, Xander," Tala said sternly though it was ruined by a small grin. "I'm not waiting for my new body any longer than I have to."
"Gotcha," he said with a grin of his own. "I'll jot down some notes for the spell and then head home for some sleep. I get the feeling I'm not going to be getting a lot of it for the next few weeks."
"Good idea. Magic is not something to do while half asleep," Tala said, momentarily looking like she was remembering something embarrassing before she stone faced him. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
With that the pointy eared lady left the room and he was left wondering even more about his magic teacher's past. She spoke like someone who had indeed performed magic while half asleep and it made him wonder if that had been what'd gotten her killed in the first place. If so, he had one very big reason to make sure he was wide awake when tossing the magic around since he had no desire to wind up dead due to an avoidable screw up.
He'd much rather die going out in a blaze of glory, taking down some impressive big bad that no one thought he could defeat.
If only because it'd leave him satisfied that he'd surpassed Tony Harris in the best possible way.
Cat Scratch Hotel
The Next Day
"Are you sure you want to stay here?" she asked, looking about the hotel room.
It wasn't a roach motel or even a place that was so bad that she thought it violated several state health and safety regulations, but something else entirely. When she and John had entered the hotel to check in the woman behind the desk had a smirk on her face that she couldn't quite place but it nevertheless made her skin crawl a bit. Things only got worse when they were told that there was only one room with two beds available due to a convention being in town. Still, when John had agreed to some very specific rules she felt any potential for a repeat of THAT night had been nipped in the bud. However, when they got to the room she saw odd square coin slots next to each bed, which implied ominous things she'd rather not think about.
Put it all together and it made the hotel a place she was uncomfortable in.
However she'd be damned if she let John know that so she played it off as something more normal.
"It's cheap, it's on the edge of the Hellmouth's influence, and we've got better things to do than look for something better," John said, putting his suitcase at the foot of one of the beds. "Now let's set up a proper bounded field so we don't get any uninvited guests at an awkward moment."
"I told you this ISN'T going to be like that weekend in Manchester!" she protested, suspecting what was going on in his head.
"Who said anything about that? I don't want anyone stumbling in through the door while we're trying to scry for the source of the spell that brought us here," John said, a bit of offended defensiveness in his voice.
"Oh. Of course," she said, a little embarrassed that she'd jumped to conclusions.
"Nice to hear you're still thinking about it, though," John said with a cocky smirk.
"Only to make sure I remember NEVER to let it happen again," she said, putting her suitcase on the other bed before opening it. "Now let's get that bounded field up."
Bounded field's served a multitude of purposes for magic users, ranging from being barriers to keep threats out, to ensuring that nothing happening within was noticed by those on the outside. In this case, though, it'd serve as a substitute for the hearth effect that kept vampires out of a person's home unless invited in by either the spoken or written word. It would also muffle any magic they might perform in the room so as not to potentially give away their temporary base of operations to any sensitive locals. Without knowing WHO or WHAT had cast the spell, being too loud as they went about their business it wouldn't be smart to advertise their presence.
As a precaution she also put into place certain defensive spells in case muffling magic being cast turned out not to be enough.
Alone it would've taken her a little over half an hour but with John helping her out they managed to get everything in place in less than fifteen minutes.
"There! All the comforts of home," John said as the visible signs of their magic faded from human sight.
"So where to now?" she asked, seeing as how this was his show more than hers.
"The one place guaranteed to have what we need," John replied, putting his coat back on. "The local pub."
"Are you sure you're not just looking to get drunk?" she asked with a bit of suspicion.
"At ten in the morning, luv? Don't be daft," John said as though the accusation was outrageous. "Drinking before noon gives me a tummy ache. Pubs are places for people with problems who think lip loosening liquid'll make it all go away. Can you think of a better place to find out what's been shaking on the Hellmouth?"
It was a bit cliche but it was mostly accurate.
Whether it was a supernatural problem or a human problem, clues could often be found in such places so long as the pub was a place frequented by beings with the info they needed.
"Got a place in mind?" she asked, not having any since she'd never been to Sunnydale before or inquired about the place before.
"Yeah. Did a bit of checking before showing up on your doorstep," he replied before walking towards the door. "Turns out there's a bottom of the barrel place called the Alibi Room. Caters to whoever thinks what is sells is worth the price. As good a place to start as any."
"Lead the way," she said, tucking her wand up her sleeve.
Just because they were just here on a fact finding mission didn't mean she was stupid enough to walk around on an active Hellmouth without adequate protection. While her preferred way of spell casting was using her voice, her father had taught her it was good to have a backup method just in case talking wasn't an option. It was imbued with a selection of spells that she could switch out to fit whatever situation she faced and mentally activate without needing to speak. The only downside was that the potency of each spell was pretty much cut in half using this method and, while it was good enough for some threats, it barely slowed others down.
Locking the door behind her she felt the defenses that she and John had erected activate, ensuring no one could enter without one of them knowing about it, assuming entry was gained at all. She couldn't sense any powerful magic close by but that didn't mean much considering where they were. The hellish energies that naturally engulfed Sunnydale acted like a dense smog to those with arcane senses and those practitioners who chose to live there knew better than to draw attention to themselves.
If getting chatty with the local locations of liquor didn't get them anything, they could still walk through town until they found something. Spells that concealed someone's presence often worked best on those peeking from a distance but, if you wound up standing right next to focal point, you'd sense something. True, with the right user of magic a spell could be woven to make a lair completely invisible to all but the most advanced of magic users, but large powers tended to make waves whether they wanted to or not.
It's gonna be a bit hard with all this hell stink around, she thought having, felt it before they got within half a mile of the town. No wonder Dad never wanted me to come here.
It'd been after he'd become satisfied enough with her progress in his lessons that he'd given her a list of places never to go until she was as good with magic as he was. Hellmouths were near at the top of the list due to their corrupting influence on those capable of magic and how demons of all sorts were drawn to them like moths to a flame. So with the infernal forces trying to turn you evil and beings who were already evil, she'd been given one reason more than she needed to steer clear Hellmouths.
Still, even with her dad telling her to steer clear of these places, he'd still taught her what precautions to take if for some reason she found herself standing in one. Strong wards applied in all the right places to keep the infernal energy from getting closer than three inches and some mental safeguards that'd kick in should her thoughts stray too far from the norm. As an option of last resort she also brought a talisman enspelled to release a large mass of purifying holy energy that'd burn away all things of unholy origin within a twenty foot radius.
If something came up that all of that couldn't handle, she'd get out of Sunnydale by whatever means was most expedient.
It took them about ten minutes or so before they arrived at 'The Alibi Room' and, just like John had described, it the place looked like it'd barely satisfy beings with the lowest of standards. Bracing herself, she followed John into the bar and with a single glance confirmed that it catered to both humans as well as various breeds of demon. Eyes were on her and John almost immediately but, while a few demons looked like they might try something, most were stopped by one of their friends. It wasn't her they were looking at, though, but rather John, which didn't surprise her in the least. Whether it was the things he did right or the things he screwed up, both tended to be noteworthy enough to make the rounds of the gossip hotspots.
"Well, this is a charming little shit hole," John said, speaking as one that'd probably been to a variety of bars from one end of the spectrum to the other. "Hope the barman has decent Guiness on tap."
She only half rolled her eyes at John prioritizing testing the beer over the real reason they were there.
Walking up to the bar she saw the bartender and possibly the owner of the bar itself wiping it down before draping the cloth over his shoulder. The cloth LOOKED clean enough and not like something that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in a month. However when she looked at the stool next to the one John she spotted a stain that had her pausing, if only because she couldn't identify what'd caused it. Sure, it was dry and unlikely to rub off on her clothes, but given the sort of life forms that were enjoying the bar's services she couldn't be sure.
"Erotser ot wen noitidnoc," she whispered before touching the stool.
With minimal fanfare and sparkling the stool was soon stain free, with any other problems fixed as well. Satisfied with her work she sat down but kept her arms away from the bar itself.
She was not planning on staying long.
"Afraid of an expensive laundry bill?" John asked with a smirk at how she'd used her magic.
"Afraid of catching something," she replied as the bartender reached them.
"No worries about that, lady," the bartender said, looking like someone who'd probably never had a bruise free day of school. "I make sure to spray some disinfectant twice a week. Now what can I get you two?"
"Got any quality Guiness on tap?" John asked, of course focusing on his drink.
"Sure," the bartender replied before taking an empty glass out. "And you lady?"
"I'm fine," she replied, not interested in drinking at this time of day or anything from this bar.
"Come on, Z. One back scratches another," John said, clearly implying that buying a drink or two might make the bartender more willing to answer their questions.
"Bud Light, please," she requested since the odds of the bar owner having bottled or canned beer was high.
The bartender didn't show any reaction but John, of course, rolled his eyes at her concession but, unlike him, she had no intention of getting even a little drunk on a Hellmouth surrounded by demons.
"Sorry about her, mate. Bit of a cheap drunk," John said in a moment of male camaraderie. "It's probably safer this way."
"Whatever you say," the bartender said, putting a bottle of beer in front of her before getting John's drink from the tap.
In the end it wasn't until John took his first mouthful of his drink that he got back on task.
"Bet a guy like you has seen a lot tending bar in a town like this," John said conversationally, looking like he was judging the foam at the top of his glass. "Do a pretty good job of keeping the place presentable, too. How you manage that? Don't figure a lot of your clientele caring much about all the trouble you'd have fixing or replacing stuff."
"Simple. My bar's the only one Sunnydale that can get'em what they want," the bartender replied, smirking a bit at the praise. "A lot of them don't exactly blend so it's not like they can go by the liquor store when they want a beer."
"You talk like they'd actually walk up to the cash register with a six pack," she said, putting in her own two cents. "More like break down the door, grab what they want and kill the cashiers if they tried to stop them."
"Only the dim ones do that," the bartender said with a snort of disrespect. "Liquor stores are a business. If every demon or vamp just stole what they wanted from it the place would get shut down inside of six months then there'd be no booze for anyone. The smart ones know it so they keep the dim ones from ruining it for everybody."
She could see the logic in that and she did know that some breeds of demon did form attachments to certain territory, so just leaving one place when the beer dried up for another town might not be possible. For a human being the limits of moving from one town to another basically boiled down to money and an ability to let go of what you had in order to focus on what was ahead. For a demon there might be a mystical element that could get in the way, or even a cultural boundary that made leaving a place long held by your clan a severely punishable offense.
Sometimes even with death.
"Good to know the locals have something between the ears," John said after swallowing a bit more of his drink. "Anyone see a big light show about a month ago? Lost a good scrying crystal that night."
"Not sure. A lot of strange stuff happens in Sunnydale," the bartender replied nonchalantly, not meeting John's gaze. "This is a Hellmouth, ya know. Got anything else?"
"Couldn't get much before it shattered but I'm pretty sure some poor sod was getting the boot out of this plane of existence," John replied, being careful with what he said. "Had to be a nasty sonuvagun with a kick that powerful."
There.
It was only for a second but she definitely saw the bartender react. Either he knew what'd happened or knew of someone that might. However he went blank face quickly but it was too late to play dumb.
John had spotted it, too, and now there was blood in the water.
"Definitely sounds like a major player from around here," the bartender said, picking up a glass before working to clean it in a classic attempt to manage stress. "Dangerous thing, though, talkin' about them without their say so. Expensive, too."
"No problem, mate. I understand how this works," John said, reaching into his jacket before pulling out what looked like a wad of hundred dollar bills. "Howsabout a hundred for a simple yes or no and three for something with a little more meat on it. Sound good?"
"Yeah… yeah. Good," the bartender replied, his greedy eyes never leaving the money wad.
"It's settled then. First up: you know who got deported?" John asked, pinching a hundred dollar bill between two fingers.
"Not really, no. Word around was it was a fly by nighter," the bartender replied, his greed influencing his forthrightness.
So whoever got banished wasn't, in fact, someone or something that'd been in Sunnydale very long. That was helpful since it meant she could check with her contacts in the surrounding towns and cities to see which players had been noticed driving by. People in the supernatural community tended to keep tabs on each others especially the ones known to make waves.
"Much of a body count?" John asked, putting the first hundred dollar bill down on the bar before pulling a second one since it'd been more than a yes or no answer.
"Nope," the bartender replied though a twitch implied that there was more to it.
Still, 'nope' counted as a 'no', so a single hundred dollar bill joined the two already on the bar.
"Really? Would've thought there'd be more of a mess," John said before teasing the bartender a bit with the fourth hundred dollar bill.
"You asked for a body count. Doesn't count as a body if it turns into goo," the bartender said, following the money close with his eyes.
Interesting. Demons or dark magic users with the ability of turning their victims into 'goo' either deliberately or as a byproduct of how they killed weren't too numerous.
And so the number of potential suspects shrunk even further.
"Any word on who got rid of the tourist?" John asked, going for one of the most important pieces of information.
THIS produced a definite response that implied that the bartender didn't want to spill what he knew.
"Nope. No witnesses. Dunno," the bartender replied, picking up a fresh glass to clean.
"No one's guessed? Anybody with that kind of power under the hood's gotta be a celebrity 'round here," John said, pressing the man for information.
"People around here know when it's smart to respect a person's privacy," the bartender said, trying to make it clear that line of questioning was dead.
"Right! Tell me another one," John scoffed before putting three hundred dollar bills on the bar. "Privacy's like everything else in life: it all comes down to price. So howsabout I keep plunking down hundreds and when the price is right you give me a name? A real name, not something you made up."
One bill at a time the stack was added to and the entire time John's eyes never left the bartender's eyes, no doubt looking for even a hint of a tell that'd help them out. The tactic appeared to be working since the signs of strain were growing on the man's face.
It looked like it wouldn't be much longer before he cracked…
…then a blast of light purple magic came out of nowhere and turned the stack of bills to smouldering ashes.
"You've spoken quite enough today, snitch," came a distorted yet female voice from the direction of the bar's entrance.
Turning her head like everyone else was, she discovered a figured hidden beneath a hooded cloak and even the extended arm responsible for destroying the money was clad in a glove that made identifying gender impossible. Narrowing her eyes she tried to make out more details from the shadow concealing the figure's face but the darkness could not be penetrated. More likely than not whoever the person was had used magic to enhance the qualities normally attributed to shadows and darkness.
"Now that was a waste of good money," John said, finishing his beer before getting off his stool to face the new arrival. "But maybe you're chattier than he was. Care to talk over a pint?"
"You're not my type and I'm more of a wine person," the figure replied dismissively before looking to the bartender. "Keep your mouth shut, Willy, or you'll wish that winding up like that stack of cash was what I had in store for you."
Didn't need to look at the bartender to know that he'd just pissed himself.
The smell gave THAT away.
"As for the two of you, I suggest you remember what curiosity did to the cat," the figure said in a voice tinged with warning. "Magic doesn't make you invulnerable around here. It makes you a target."
With that and a puff of purple smoke the figure teleported, leaving nothing but empty air behind them.
Looking back to the bartender she could tell that they wouldn't be getting anything more out of him and hearing the shuffle of movement she had a feeling that the patrons would step up if she or John tried to put pressure on their favorite bartender.
"I think we've outstayed our welcome, luv," John said, setting his beer glass down on the bar. "Time to go."
With a nod the two of them made their way out of the bar, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything looking to put an end to their curiosity permanently. It wasn't until twenty minutes had passed without anything bad happening that they tentatively concluded that they were in the clear.
"Any idea who that was?" she asked, trying to think of anyone in the magical community who could teleport, fire blasts and had a thing for hooded cloaks.
"Not a clue but I've got a better question: how did she know we were there?" John asked, looking about the area casually yet carefully. "Couldn't have been in there more than ten minutes before the walking cliche showed up."
"Maybe someone's watching the bar? Maybe one of the customers passed along what we were doing?" she asked, considering the possibilities.
"Or maybe they spotted us the second we came to town and only showed up when we started asking questions," John said, taking the more pessimistic viewpoint. "Sunnydale's been around for quite awhile and people have been moving in every year it's been here. Shoulda guessed that someone would've put something in place to spot threats the second they got within range."
"But I didn't feel anything other than the hell stink when we entered Sunnydale," she said, examining her own memories to see if something was off.
"Security systems aren't much good if people can see'em," John said, sounding more sure than ever that he was right. "Probably found a way to make it all look like just another part of the scenery."
"If you're right we should probably get back to the hotel," she said, looking with her own senses, both natural and mystical. "If we don't know who that was, we're going to need to prepare a few things if they try to get us to back off again."
"Sounds like a plan, Z," John said, finishing his looking around. "Plus it'll give us a chance to make sense of what Willy the Snitch told us."
"You're assuming anything he told us is actually worth anything," she said with a bit of skepticism. "Greedy and spineless people aren't all that reliable."
"As long as both emotions aren't fighting for head space they can actually be very reliable," John said, beginning to walk back in the direction of the hotel.