Leaping to the top of one of the few solid counters in this vast room of artworks, Signet kicked a drooling zombie back into a mass of screaming, fleeing humans, twisted a sai out of a female ninja's black-gloved hand, and brought a black earthenware pot down on a Casanova's bearded head. Ni'itsu Kakunoshin, the black-printed card wafting away from pottery shards read, followed by a string of numbers the espionage-trained Blood couldn't help but recognize as what humans called real money.
"Say konban wa," a tall, dark-haired swordsman in a red and white cloak said lightly, casually applying the hilt of his katana to the back of the ninja's head. The ninja collapsed without a sound. "Pitiful. Just pitiful. What has ninjutsu come to?" Dark blue eyes met her gaze, apparently oblivious to the costumed mob packing itself into the furthest corner of the room. "You are paying for that, Mrs.-" He stopped. Blinked. Looked her up and down, from white high-heeled boots to white, slashed and buckled hip-hugging pants and top, to the black tip of her otherwise white braid, very carefully.
"I'm not a Mrs. anything." Tapping white, pointed nails against the side-buckles of her pants, Signet couldn't help but smirk. Her ermine sense of smell might not be as sharp as Blazon's wolf nose, but she could detect the shift in his scent from polite neutrality to real interest. "See something you like?"
One nail clicked instead of clacked, and she risked a glance at her left hip. One of the white-painted aluminum buckles there had been replaced with silver. I don't remember doing that... A finer element of the swordsman's scent filtered through, and Signet cocked her head, distracted from the bright-and-shiny. "Who are you?"
Dark brows rose almost into long hair. "You don't remember?"
"Would I ask?" Signet sniffed, opening her mouth slightly to roll the scent over her tongue. "You have a mixed scent. Panther? Or some other cat I don't know. I don't remember any panthers in the labs at Circle Sea. And I would."
"Not... quite a panther." The tall swordsman smiled oddly. "Call me Hiko, then."
"Signet," the infiltration expert of Bar Sinister said firmly, leaping down with inhuman, fluid grace. "Sorry if I screwed up your passing for human-"
Groaning, the zombie disentangled itself from the mob, and lunged.
Signet met it midway. A snap kick, a backhand, a twist, and she was behind it. Dispassionate as the ermine whose DNA had been mixed with human to create her, she snapped its neck.
"-I just didn't know any of us could," Signet finished, flicking bits of dead flesh off her hands. Ugh. Can't even eat the kill. Not that any of Bar Sinister would; they weren't rabids. You didn't eat humans. They were half-kin, after all. More or less. No matter what the Supreme Court had decided about genetically engineered life-forms.
Hiko waved it off. "Given the amount of wild youki loose this night, I doubt they'll remember specifics." He frowned. "And more of it's coming this way."
Youki? Japanese. He must have been designed as an infiltrator, or for international military application. Signet stalked over to the wide glass windows in front, scowling at the fires and odd, green and blue lights heading their way. "They don't smell like us." She saw tendrils wave where one of the closer creatures should have had a face, and shuddered despite herself. She hated the humans for shooting Bug simply because it was ugly, but still- "Did Circle Sea make that?"
"I doubt it." His sharp, handsome face was grim. "They're looking for prey."
She twitched her braid over her shoulder, reassured by the tail-like brush of hair over her skin. "Humans? Or us?"
Hiko smiled suddenly, sheathing his sword. "Signet, my fine, fluid kunoichi... as far as what's out there is concerned, we are human." His smile chilled. "And prey."
"Mr. Ni'itsu?" one of the braver humans in the crowd behind them asked tentatively. "Mrs. Summers-?"
"Stay back!" Signet ordered. "We'll handle this!"
And the horde was on them.
"One good thing, though." Hiko smirked in the midst of the fight, blade splitting flesh like lightning. "With this much chaos loose, my baka deshi has to be out there somewhere."
Idiot student. "You're a teacher?" she blurted, twisting between three creatures' strikes as she applied all the Aikido training her instructors had seen fit to give. No control-collar shocks if she did it wrong, here; only pain, and blood, and death.
"When my student sees fit to find me... annoying habit of his." Hiko grinned darkly, taking out four foes with one swift swing. "Though I will admit that finding me this time may have been a bit more difficult."
Bodies and pieces of bodies fell; the surviving creatures bolted back into the street. Blood hot with kill-hunger, Signet leaped after them-
Hands closed on her shoulders. "Stay."
The command - so like the labs, so like the scientists and company executives who thought they could own her, who had owned her before the shaman Joshua Brand had freed them all - sent her temper over the edge. "Don't you dare tell me to-"
Hiko dodged her first blow, caught her second in an uncompromising grip. "What if those creatures come back?" He nodded toward the others in the art gallery. "They can't protect themselves."
Signet snarled, but relaxed her arm. "What about your deshi? If he runs into trouble-"
Hiko snorted. "After what I know he went through to get here? I pity anything that runs into him."
Fine for you, but what about my daughter? Joyce Summers wanted to shout, rattling the cage of Signet's focussed will. She's out there, somewhere...
And there's nothing I can do about it.
This was worse than the PTA meeting. At least then, when that bleached blond and his gang of odd-looking thugs had attacked her daughter, she'd been able to pick up an axe and do something.
Wait a minute, Joyce thought, hovering in the background as Signet stalked through the shadows near Hiko, keen eyes peering out into the night. I went after the blond with an axe? I hit him with an axe? And he walked away?
Why didn't I remember that before?
And that image dredged up others, one odd event pulling another out of memory in a cascade of accumulated weirdness. Signet's personality might be a wall insulating her from control of her body, but that very insulation seemed to have cut off some kind of blinder that had been affecting how she saw Sunnydale.
A gang? Joyce realized. With fangs, and those faces, and walking away from axe blows... what on earth was I thinking?
I did hit him with an axe. And Buffy and Mr. Giles knew it.
And they've never mentioned it. Ever.
Just as she'd never said anything about the odd rips and stains in Buffy's clothes, night after night. The traces of dust that smelled like old death. The weird, half-heartedly explained incidents of destruction that seemed to hit town every week; a 'gang attack on PCP' here, a 'hallucinogenic gas leak' there, 'unexpected localized quakes' that left only certain buildings in fiery ruins.
Homicides. Missing people. Buffy out at all hours with her friends, finding trouble - and she promised me she wouldn't go looking for it. Not to mention that boyfriend she won't talk about, who never shows up during the day-
Belatedly Joyce realized that Signet was drawing sharp nails lightly down a muscular arm, over the leather arm-guard, offering the pottery artist turned swordsman a knowing smile. The ermine in her loved killing or mating both, and there hadn't been nearly enough killing.
Oh, no...
But Hiko only intercepted her hand, holding it with odd, callused tenderness. "On another night, under other circumstances - yes. Preferably with a good view of the moon, and a bottle of sake for the both of us." He released her, running his fingers across hers in a deliberate caress as he took one civil step back. "But until those we care for are safe - no. Forgive me."
Signet shrugged, turning her attention back to the chaos wandering the night. Joyce breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with a guilty regret. She wasn't old old, but since Hank had left... no one had looked at her quite that way. At least, no one who hadn't tried to drug her, attack her daughter, and drag her off as a fifties-era permanent captive.
Note to self: get Buffy to check this guy out. Looks harmless doesn't mean is harmless.
Not that Mr. Ni'itsu looked harmless, right now; sword loose in its sheath, stance relaxed and ready, eyes flickering from warm blue to fierce, inhuman amber.
As inhuman as she was, right now.
When I catch up with you, Rupert Giles - you'd better have a damn good explanation!
A final slap of steel against flesh turned monstrous and serpentine, and Dreizehn's opponent went down. Eyes still shut tight, the hellhound reached out gloved fingers to the quivering throat-
"She's down, but not dead," a woman's voice said calmly, underlain by an odd, low hum. "Is that important to you?"
"Ja," Dreizehn said firmly. Though I do not know why. The other little monsters I found myself among were mostly fay; not harmless, but small threat to any wary human. But this one is a gorgon. If I allow her to live, she could threaten my mistress.
Yet his mistress wasn't here, and something in him did not want to kill.
Even though it was very, very frustrated...
Frowning, the hellhound stepped off the candy-strewn porch, sheathing his katana as he cocked cropped ears to distant screams in the night. Sniffed the air. Determined from the faded reek of snake and youki that he was far enough from the unconscious gorgon to risk opening his eyes, and looked toward the hum.
A blade of silver light blazed in the hand of a tall, black-cloaked woman in multi-layered green dougi and trousers, the black belt at her waist holding a mini-coil of rope and no few unidentifiable gadgets. Her face was calm, if puzzled, an odd contrast to the brilliant white and amber-streaked not-quite-an-orchid pinned into her dark hair. "Odd. I sense both the Light Side and the Dark Side within you. Yet you are not evil." Her thumb switched something on the metal handle in her grip, and silver light vanished. She bowed fluidly. "Mira Tanrith, Jedi Knight of Corellia."
"Dreizhen," he answered in turn, granting her the stiff, formal bow of his homeland's military. "Once of Germany."
"Germany?" Mira clipped the metal cylinder to her belt. "I don't think I've heard of that planet."
The hellhound scowled as he scanned the unfamiliar suburbs. White-painted houses, trimmed with yellow or blue or rich reds. Modern streetlights, neatly mowed lawns, hedges shaped into walls or globes or strange vegetable animals. Carved pumpkins on the porch to scare off evil spirits, as if it were Walpurgisnacht. And through it all, sounds of shattering and screams and pain. "This is not Germany. And it is not Los Angeles' Chinatown."
"A relatively low-tech planet, or so it appears," Mira agreed. "They're past sticks and stones, but I haven't seen so much as a speeder." She cocked her head at him. "You sense something?"
"Japan?" he wondered aloud, tasting a hint of inu-youkai and kitsune on the wind. "No, not Japan..." And yet, I scent my distant kin. Should I find them? Foxes might help, or not, but a fellow demon-dog would understand. I must find my mistress. I cannot leave her unprotected.
A sense of agreement. Worry. The faint, faded image of a blonde who was not Karen, reaching him through the steel sheathed at his side.
Dreizhen paused, ears pricked back. Claws clenched within dark glove leather, closing on the hilt of his blade. He bared fangs in a snarl, glaring at the night.
"Something touched your mind," Mira said plainly. "Who?"
"A demon? A ghost?" Dreizehn shook his head. "It is gone."
"No. No, I don't believe it is." She held out a hand. "May I?"
He drew back. "What do you intend?"
"As a Jedi, I may touch the minds of others strong in the Force. Which you are." She gestured toward the night. "Something seems to have plucked us from our proper places and left us here, in the midst of a disturbance in the Force. Something which... resonates... with the presence I sense within you. It may have answers."
The hellhound stiffened. "You wish to tamper with my mind?"
"Not tamper," Mira said calmly. "Investigate."
"I know you not." Dreizhen turned, hand flashing to his sword. "Nor you."
"Easy, easy..." The dark-haired teen who'd tried to sneak up on them flashed a British rogue's own charming smile, dusting off the lapels of his suit. "Bond. James Bond. And outrageous as it may outwardly seem, based on the rather striking evidence of various dismembered ruffians left along the way, this young lady does indeed appear to be-" he stifled a wry laugh, "-a Jedi. You should be perfectly safe."
"I am a guardian of truth and justice in the galaxy," Mira nodded. "I mean you no harm."
Slowly, Dreizhen lifted his hand from the hilt. "I, too, am a guardian," he warned. "Walk carefully."
Dear god. Wrapped in what small protective magics were his to command, Rupert Giles held tightly to his sense of self as Mira's presence infiltrated Dreizehn's will. Mira, not Jenny; the wisps he could sense through his shielding were all Jedi, not a trace of techno-pagan remaining. Whoever cast this spell was frighteningly thorough.
Her power washed into him like warm sunlight, systematically gathering up each piece of Dreizhen in search of him. It was terrifying. Amazing. Exhilarating.
No!
The Watcher shivered within the hellhound's dominant personality, feeling the subtle creep of magic inward. He doubted other victims of the spell would notice, but his experiments with Eyghon in his young idiot teenager days had left him quite sensitized to the feel of another being's essence touching his own.
This wasn't merely touching. It was encroaching. Mingling. Waking the Ripper within him from his decades-old grave, and infusing what had been an arrogant, angry young man with all the hellhound's own demonic emotions. Arrogance. Pride. Contempt, for any creatures not of his pack. Unwavering devotion to those few who were...
Clear. You must keep your head clear, Giles reminded himself firmly. The children are counting on you.
Easy to think. Hard to believe, when the flex of magic and Mira's power swept him along like a clear, chuckling stream.
Like a drug, Giles told himself forcefully. This is not real. This is not me.
Are you sure, Watcher? the part of himself he thought of as Ripper taunted. Or are you only saying that because you're afraid?
With a hellhound in control of his body? Who wouldn't be afraid?
A hellhound he'd convinced not to kill... though he was sure that was but a momentary lapse on the creature's part.
And yet, it didn't feel like a lapse. Not with the odd memories whispering through his shields; memories that spoke of a fierce, merciless guardian, but not an executioner.
Which wasn't like Ripper at all.
Feeling for the subtle chill of steel that was his own katana at Dreizehn's side, Giles let out a mental sigh. I am terribly, desperately confused.
Yet he was a terribly confused Watcher, not the arrogant young idiot who'd been possessed so many years before. Which ought to count for something.
Although I can't precisely consult my books and look stuff up at the moment...
Still. The principles remained. Gather enough facts, peer at them through a prism of knowledge, practicality, and a jigger of sarcasm, and thence espy a solution.
Fact: he, Jenny, Jonathan, and many of those innocent, sugar-hyped abominations they'd been escorting this night, had somehow been transformed into the very characters they'd chosen to portray. Fact: while from his own experience the host mind remained, and might even influence the possessing mind, it was the character who was in control. Fact: he was currently within the mind of a creature that might well help Buffy and her cohort... or tear them apart.
At the moment, the odds were leaning toward tearing. Vampire slayer, demon... Dreizhen might not be actively malevolent, but the hellhound had a perfectly healthy sense of self-preservation. And as Xander had so painfully discovered with the hyena possession, human friendship wouldn't keep a pack animal from its instincts.
Unless I can influence those instincts.
Hellhound did include hound, after all; and the alien memories inflicted on him contained images of older and younger packmates, feelings of protectiveness, a firm nip to misbehaving pups, a thrill of hunting with fellow adults in mortal and hellish realms. If he could only touch those feelings within Dreizhen, urge the creature to apply them to Buffy...
"There you are." Mira's mind ruffled the edge of his shields.
Damn - got distracted-
"Won't you come out?" She traced the edge of his power; not prying, not yet. "I promise you, it's safe."
Safe is precisely what it is not, Giles realized with a shudder. You mean to tear off my shields-
No, a Jedi probably wouldn't. Though she was asking him to drop them. Which was, in a way, worse.
Hide, or yield. There were no other options. Dreizhen was just as innately untrusting and ruthless as he himself. If he tried to influence the demon while holding anything back - the hellhound would hunt down the intruder in "his" mind and destroy it. Allowing a demon within me. Granting it the chance to kill. I must be enspelled, even to consider it.
And yet - Dreizhen wasn't the only killer in this body, was he?
Dreizhen is a demon!
True. But everything he could sense, everything he could remember, said the hellhound's spirit followed one clear code. The same code Giles had chosen when he'd turned away from Ripper's path for good.
Destroy evil. Instantly.
Thick scents of inu-hanyou, vampire, and human magic smote Giles even through the mental shields. Angel!
A surge of odd fury shot through him, mingled with frustration. Surely it couldn't be a good sign when he could recognize his Slayer's vampiric boyfriend by scent.
Where Angel is, Buffy won't be far. Bracing himself, Giles dropped the shields. Jenny!
Holding back Dreizehn's instinctive rush at the human personality, Mira started. "Odd. You think of me - and yet you think of someone else."
No, I don't. That's the problem-
"Slowly, friend. Be at peace."
At peace. While chaos reigned, and enchanted innocents slaughtered each other. Gods, Jedi! There's no time! he thought frantically.
"Impatience leads to the Dark Side," Mira warned.
Stuff the Dark Side! Jenny, if you can hear me - we've been enchanted. You're not Mira. I'm not Dreizehn. We have to get them out, get control of our bodies again-
"You would have me cast out a part of your own soul. And mine." Mira's voice held a sudden edge. "You may not be evil, Rupert Giles, but that is of the Dark Side."
Dreizhen is not my soul! he growled, sensing as well as hearing the outward growl as Dreizhen reacted to his threat.
"Calm yourself, Dreizhen. Be within the living Force." He felt her fingers drift across his forehead. "Very odd. One of you must be mistaken, and yet, I sense that no spirits dwell within your body that should not claim it as their refuge."
Oh lord. How strong is this spell? A demon's spirit should not belong in a human form. Unless... Giles felt sick. A transformation. A very thorough transformation.
"I don't understand this 'transformation spell' you refer to," Mira said clinically, "though it seems to have something in common with genetic manipulations the Republic outlawed centuries ago. Still..." She placed her fingertips along his temples, warm dots of solace. "I do sense a dissonance within your mind, stronger than that within my own. And that, the Force will allow me to mend. If you are willing?"
Just do something!
"Ah, good. All three of you agree."
Three?
Light poured through him.
Jenny Calendar blinked, taken aback by the calm, gentle power that had measured her, weighed her - and returned her to herself. Or not quite herself, she realized, touching the bloom still in her hair. No longer the slightly waxy orchid Giles had gifted her with to complete her costume, it still had the silky, delicate yet steel-strong petals of a bloom of Rostek Horn's Jedi line. I wonder, if we checked the DNA, would we find coded Jedi lore...
Oh, no! Giles! "Rupert?"
"Just barely. I think." Her fellow teacher shuddered, like a dog shaking off drops of rain. "Let's pray our alter selves vanish with the spell. Their influence is... disturbing."
"Dreizehn and Mira came with the spell," Jenny pointed out, touching the lightsaber at her belt with stunned awe. "Where did he come from?"
"Yes, well..." Giles coughed, automatically taking his glasses out of Dreizhen's jacket pocket. Put them on, carefully negotiating the frames over Dreizehn's cropped ears. Frowned, and took them off again. "It's not well known, but Watchers return as frequently as Slayers. Part of our judgement, I've always thought, for sending such young lives into harm's way. Though oddly enough, this is the first time I've felt any memories other than my own. You have no idea how that worried my father. For a time he thought he'd had a changeling switched into the family..."
"Rupert, he did not feel like a Watcher," Jenny said bluntly. "More like - a wolf."
"I seem to recall you're not far wrong. He was Miburou." Giles frowned at faded memory. "A wolf of Mibu..."
"Much as I hate to break up this fascinating discussion," Jonathan drawled in Bond's classic tone, drawing a pistol from a well-concealed shoulder holster, "I do believe something rather serious is happening over there."
Unconsciously Jenny reached out to the flow of life in that direction - and took off at a dead run.
Darkness. Violence. A hate for all that lives.
Light, fighting so hard against it.
Lightsaber shimmering ablaze, the Jedi sliced one wing off a cloven-hoofed demon attacking Willow, vaulted over the swath of green acid left by another Xander had slashed open, dodged under Cordelia's blood-sword as Sunnydale's glamour queen beheaded a woman with dreadlocks and night-mirror eyes, and stabbed the worm-like slithering thing constricting Angel through what passed for its heart. Gunshots and a guttural snarl punctuated her moves; in the Force she felt Dreizhen's blood-thirst as the hellhound sliced apart creatures that would have struck at her throat, Bond's cool calculation as the spy sniped at any demonic types that were considering joining the fray.
"Ms. Calendar!" the vampire coughed. "Am I glad to see-" He blinked, eyes crossing as they tried to focus on the silvery energy near his nose. "Oh, no. Not you too..."
"Relax," Jenny said firmly, lifting her blade back up to guard. Though she felt anything but relaxed. I've never used a sword before, and now... worry about it later. As Mira would say - for now, survive. "Rupert and I managed to pry off some of the mental aspects."
A dismembered, clawed arm flew past, flung by a growling hellhound.
"Mostly," Jenny amended, wide-eyed. So much anger in him. And I never knew, never guessed.
No. That wasn't quite true. She'd sensed the edges of that darkness months ago, when he'd cast the circle to bind Moloch. Seen the pure determination that drove the man when Spike had attacked the PTA meeting, the librarian's usual tweedy harmlessness cast aside to head out in the face of an unknown number of vampires to rescue his Slayer.
The guardian hellhound. That's the last time I listen to the rune-castings when I go picking Halloween costumes!
"Okay," Xander panted, tossing white hair over his shoulder as he slashed a tusked skull off a twisted, animate skeleton yet again. Acid had splashed his arms, reddening his hands; fire-rat robes were still smoking slightly, mending themselves. "Where's the damn pervert monk and his kazaana when you need it... anybody have any bright ideas on how to put this thing down?"
"Just one," Cordelia said grimly, shrugging off what was left of her sizzling, acid-eaten trenchcoat, absently brushing off her gray suit sleeves. "Professor? Can you sticky-tape this Skinner guy the way you did those little ones?"
"I can, yes, Detective," Willow said, accent even more British than Giles' as she raised her wand. "But it won't hold but a minute."
"Doesn't have to. Get back."
A shouted spell from Willow, and Cordelia lunged, impaling Skinner's breastbone with glowing, razor-edged blood. The creature shuddered. Lay limp.
Shaking the blood from his blade, Giles sniffed the air. "Is it-?"
"Not dead," Jenny reported, sensing the Darkness still flowing about the bones. Brr. So much power. What is that thing?
"Somehow, I didn't think it would be." Releasing the blood-sword, Cordelia glared at still-twitching bones. Blinked, eyes shifting from slitted gold to human green. "So Angel knows you guys. I take it that means you know us? Or anyway, who we're supposed to be?"
"If one believes this tale of enchantment and possession the two of you seem determined to spin," Willow said primly.
"And what's more likely?" Cordelia said plainly. "Each of us getting plucked out of our own lives to drop into the middle of this chaos, without any memory of why, without any of our friends come hunting us - and believe me, Guni would never let me get snatched across dimensions without coming right after me - or one spell that hit everybody? It fits the facts, Prof."
Willow drew herself up, eyes snapping fire. "Save those facts you seem so fond of would declare us no more than bits of some muggle's petty imagination, Detective!"
Bones snapped as Giles stomped on a whimpering demonling, and Jenny winced. "I hate to break it to you, but-"
Xander raised his head to the wind. "Shippou!"
"Look at you," the blond vampire crooned, stalking toward them across the vacant warehouse floor as some of his minions crowded them near a wall of crates and others guarded the exits. "Shaking. Terrified. Lost little lambs."
"Earth and bones," Shippou gulped, hiding behind Kenshin. "I didn't think there was anything else like Kikyo..."
Earth and bones - she thinks he's an ogre-witch's creation? Kenshin thought, gently prying Shippou off his leg as he moved to guard Duo's back. Not far wrong, if what Shishou taught me of vampires all those years ago is true; demon-spirits spawned within the bodies of the dead, stealing their memories to better prey on humans. I wonder whose memories this one walks with. He seems to know some elements of tactics. The vampire and his followers - some vampires, some transformed humans - had cut off their avenues of escape while still out of ki-sensing range, only closing in gradually. By the time he and Duo had realized they were being herded, they were here.
But if this creature thinks Duo is terrified... Kenshin hid a smile. Sometimes it was useful being small and slender as a girl. Spike hadn't more than glanced his way. One breath, and he could sever the vampire's head from its shoulders.
He wanted to. So badly. The rurouni wished, above all, to protect - and to protect her, at any cost to himself. This Spike was not under enchantment, unlike the transformed children he'd influenced into herding them. The vampire was undead, something that should not walk the face of the world, and even the gentle wanderer longed to return what was left of a human in it to the peace of death.
But that would mean disrupting his companion's plan. And she had one. He could feel it in the tension of her muscles, the fierce, almost gleeful determination in her ki.
I have sought her through years and lands and death itself. I will trust her now. Reaching within, he shifted his focus to the cold fury that was Battousai.
Spike backhanded Duo across the face, smirking. "I love it-"
Something thucked into flesh. Spike froze. Coughed.
Eyes wide, the vampire staggered back, a vibrating knife smoking in his left kidney.
"We-ll, whaddya know." Duo's tone lilted, playful as Okita Souji about to slash his way through a squad of Ishin Shishi. The rising red mark on her cheek only accented the cold, berserk glitter in the Gundam pilot's twilight eyes. "Bullets no, energy blade yes." Palming a metal cylinder from her jacket, she snapped it out into a long handle, green scythe-blade humming to fiery life. "Welcome to hell!"
Spike scrabbled back. The monsters roared. Vampires charged-
Duo laughed. And attacked.
Surrounded by pieces of monsters that had been transformed innocents, demons drawn out by the chaos, children cursed into enchanted forms, and echoes of half-alien memory, Rupert Giles couldn't imagine ever laughing again.
"Bleedin' 'ell!"
The sight of one bleached-blond vampire running as if his unlife depended on it, however, did it.
"Everybody who sees me dies!" Laughing maniacally, a teenage girl in a black priest's outfit and long chestnut braid was only steps behind, green energy-scythe swooping within inches of William the Bloody's black duster. In her wake a young redhead in gi and hakama carried a little fox-tailed girl under his left arm, right hand filled with a gleaming katana as he fended off any creatures that sought to come at them from behind.
Xander tensed, shoving his sword back into its saya in a screech of fang transforming back to battered steel. "Shippou!"
The fox-girl sniffed the air, and squirmed out of the redhead's arm. "Inuyasha!"
"Kami, runt, where have you been?" Xander snatched her up in a rough hug, then pried her off to hold her at arm's length. "Been looking for you all night, you brat - aw, no. Not the tears, come on, can't this wait for Kagome..."
"Waah!"
Sighing, Xander wrapped her in a gentler hug, letting the kitsune's nose nestle into white hair. "Hey. I'm right here, runt. You're okay."
The redheaded swordsman stopped, evidently torn between checking on the kitsune and following Buffy. Who made the issue moot by stopping to catch her breath, still laughing, as she watched Spike race out of view.
"Good lord," Giles managed, listening to the crash of the frantic vampire through hedges and hoping he'd impale himself on a handy branch. "I believe he may have set a new land-speed record..."
That ki!
Impossible. Unbelievable. Unmistakable.
As unmistakable as the cross-shaped scar on the redhead's left cheek.
"Battousai."
Amber eyes whipped toward his growl, fading to violet puzzlement. Lightening back toward blue, shot with amber fire, as the Bakumatsu's most feared assassin measured his own ki in turn. "Saitou."
It was like opening a floodgate.
Night and fire; the scent of white plums and blood. Ikeda-ya had slain many of the Ishin Shishi, yet somehow he knew the most dangerous were escaping...
Red hair blazing across the battle of Toba Fushimi, cutting down his comrades like ripe grain, facing him for a few furious, thrilling moments... Yet when he sought the assassin after the battle was over, only a sword remained on the field the Imperialists had won...
Ten years, and Choushuu's deadliest assassin hid in a quiet smile and a ridiculously bright red gi, standing framed in a dojo doorway, wide blue eyes of an innocent swordswoman beside him. "No matter what you say, this one refuses to take more life."
"Is that so?" He stroked his fingers along his katana, taking the odd, awkward-looking stance of Gatotsu. "Then come. I will deny everything that you are..."
Decades, and he rested his creaky bones on a dojo engawa, eyeing red hair still bright despite its threads of gray. "Tokio tries to tell me otherwise... but it won't be long now. For either of us."
"Perhaps it is for the better," his old foe said, hand over a bandage on one wrinkled wrist. Not bitter, only sad. "I do not know our country anymore. Cars, factories, invading China... I fear for our children. Our grandchildren."
"You trusted Hiko with Kenji. Trust him with them." He frowned at Battousai's wound. "Taking up the blade once more and not telling me?"
"No. Shishou," Himura shrugged. "A promise to be kept, he said. For the future..."
"Himura," Giles breathed now, reeling. "How... why?"
"You know him?" Buffy jumped in.
"I did once." The Watcher shook himself, setting aside memories of the leader of the Third Shinsengumi Unit. Or trying to. The wolf who would not yield, even in the peace of Meiji. The blood-thirst within me, that hated the straitjacket of English customs and Watchers' tradition so fiercely it created Ripper. And now he has a hellhound as his ally.
No! This is my life!
"But this is not the time, nor the place; that it is not," Battousai said firmly, sheathing his blade.
Yet not calmly, Giles noted, unable to douse a thrill of dark excitement. The narrowed eyes, flickering so easily toward amber. The shadow-swift flow of movement as Himura scanned the night for any other threats to their group. The automatic move to guard their weaker flank, a swordsman's ki and subtle wave of hand gathering up the others into a war-party ready for a run through the deadly night...
However he's returned, it's pared him to the core. The hitokiri is back.
And may the gods have mercy on anything that stands against us.
"Calm." Jenny touched a hand to his shoulder, radiating peace. "Remember who you are."
Shutting off her scythe, Buffy cocked her head in a very un-Buffy-like move, eyeing Giles carefully. "Y'know, lady, something tells me that might just be the problem."
"Depends," Angel said dryly. "Buffy... Duo," he amended at her glower. "Are you all right?" The vampire glanced toward Battousai. "Who is that guy?"
"Fang-boy, Himura," Buffy said shortly, hand almost reaching for her scythe. "Himura Kenshin, guy who calls himself Angel and morphed into real, sharp-toothed weirdness in what he says is my family kitchen. Which is crazy. 'Cause my family's dead. A long time ago."
"Your name is Buffy Summers," Angel said with fraying patience. "Your parents are divorced. You live with your mom, here in Sunnydale. We've been seeing each other off and on since you moved here last year-"
Battousai tensed at that, though a stranger wouldn't have seen so much as a flicker in his set amber stare. Giles felt the shock and hurt like a knife of ice in the hitokiri's ki, melting into grief and determination. Why? the Watcher wondered. You've only just met the girl, Battousai; I grant you her ki is bright as Kaoru's, but it's not as if she were yours-
No, Giles realized, more memories falling into place as Duo's anger scraped against his own ki. Not simply like Kaoru's.
Gods, Battousai. What kami did you mortally offend before you were born as Kenshin Himura? Only you could land in a situation this insane!
"-You're the Slayer." Angel went on. "I gave you that cross when I first met you, outside the Bronze-"
"Teme! Urusai!" Twilight eyes were dark and dangerous. "Stop lying to me!" She snapped her scythe out, green energy casting a vicious glow across her cross and black jacket. "Or we'll see if Shinigami can kill the dead twice!"
"Maa, maa." Battousai touched the back of her hand, careful not to block her swing. "You remember otherwise."
The chestnut braid whipped over black leather. "Sister Helen gave me this cross." Her voice dropped, low enough that even hellhound ears had to strain to hear. "Last thing she could give me."
Battousai nodded once. "Wait," he said plainly, meeting the ensouled vampire's gaze. "If you do care for her, then wait."
"If I care for her?" Angel said pointedly, glaring at how close they stood. "And just who do you think are?"
"And just why are you thinking of popcorn, Rupert?" Jenny muttered, shooting him a suspicious look.
So she was still Jedi enough to sort his emotions out of his shielded ki. That could be useful. Not to mention entertaining. "Angelus, Scourge of Europe; Battousai, Demon of Kyoto," Giles murmured back. "This could actually be a fair fight."
"Fair-" Jenny swallowed. "Tell me that's not what it looks like."
Two very stubborn young men, each sizing up a rival they never expected? Oh, it is. "Ah." Fangs showed in his grin. "But Jedi detest lies, do they not?"
"What the hell?" Xander's growl cut across the growing tension. "You're a girl!"
"Well, duh!" Shippou jumped out of his arms, fox ears flattened. "I've always been a girl!"
"The hell you have!" Xander barked.
"Have too!"
"Have not!"
"Have too!"
"I say!" Willow waved her wand in warning. "That's enough from the both of you. Obviously, one of you must be mistaken..." She trailed off, thinking hard.
"Still think I'm crazy?" Cordelia said wryly.
A few whispered words of Latin, and color like oil rainbows rippled out and away from her wand. "There is a disturbance in the magic of this night," Willow said reluctantly. "It emanates from..."
"That way," four voices said as one, three hands and one wand settling on the direction of Sunnydale's business district.
"So dark magic feels like a disturbance in the Force," Jenny noted as Willow gave them a frankly curious look. "And Rupert feels it, and you feel it..." She eyed Himura.
"You're carrying a magic sword, and you have to ask?" Xander snorted. "Some samurai you are. Tengu or youkai - whatever their styles are, they come right out of the demon realms. They can lock into ki, sense it without smelling it." He sniffed the wind. "Doesn't smell like a youkai, though. Which means some human idiot probably got hold of a jewel shard. Let's go!"
"Hey-!" Jenny's yelp of surprise was cut off, as Xander snatched her and Shippou in a blur of red.
"You were holding out on me!" Buffy's words were left hanging in the air as she and Himura likewise blurred away.
"Not at all, Duo-dono," Kenshin's voice drifted down the wind. "I could not both carry you and Shippou. And you seemed content to terrify Spike with near misses, that you did..."
"Holy-" Angel shut his jaw, raced to keep up as Cordelia took Willow and Giles hauled a mildly protesting Jonathan over his shoulders. "I thought only full-blood youkai could move that fast!"
"Doesn't know much about hanyou, does he?" Cordelia said wryly. Bouncing against her gray-suited shoulder, Willow looked distinctly green.
"Likely not," Giles admitted. "Those references I have on your, er, career in Japan as Angelus include rumors of a few encounters with weaker youkai and tengu, but none with the true taiyoukai."
"I know enough. Hanyou. Half-demon," Angel said pointedly. "Meaning half as strong as a full demon. If they have even that much power."
"Indeed. Even accurate, so far as it goes. But given that those who consider themselves true youkai often make a sport of hunting down those who are not, the survivors tend to be rather above average." Giles fell into a steady, ground-eating lope alongside Cordelia, pricking his ears in amusement at Jonathan's low stream of British invective. "Angel. You must remember Buffy is not herself at the moment."
"She trusts him!"
Over two centuries old and still a wounded teenager. Giles sighed. "Battousai has a knack for inspiring that. Gods know why." Not true, old wolf. You do know why. To those who need him, he blazes like a bonfire. The sword which protects. He cares.
"You know what costume he's wearing?" Angel demanded.
"Yes." That of an innocent rurouni, the Watcher thought dryly.
Angel blew out an aggravated breath, obviously setting his Irish temper aside. "Tell me about it after we fix this." He forced a laugh. "Give me a few hours to get over the bullet holes, and it'll probably even be funny."
No, Angel, Giles thought soberly. I don't think it will be.
But explaining the knot of calamity, confusion, and honor that was Himura Kenshin, Hitokiri Battousai, would have to wait. They had hanyou to catch.
You know, if it weren't for the monsters, the being trapped in my own bod, and the whole evil spell gig, this would be the most fun Halloween of my life, Xander thought gleefully.
Bare feet raced through the night, never missing a step. Wind flowed through long silvery hair like a caress, painting Sunnydale in a rainbow palette of living scents. Shippou and Ms. Calendar were light weights against his back, no more burden than a feather pillow. Wrapped around it all was Inuyasha's hard-won confidence in himself; that with his sword, his claws, and his friends beside him, there was no foe they couldn't defeat.
And to top it all off, he'd left a very unconscious Larry the Pirate King way, way behind, somewhere between Buffy's and the demon-mess.
"Pretty," my claws. Long hair doesn't mean faint-in-your-filthy-arms girl, you idiot.
Inuyasha had felt the same, with a large helping of pure glee for the fight and none of Xander's caution at tackling a larger opponent. He'd grinned with full fangs as he swung one casual, pulled punch at the pirate's jaw.
The football player had gone down like a ton of bricks.
If this wasn't Heaven, it was a pretty good prequel.
I just wish it was me doing the rescuing, here...
Then again, maybe it was. Sort of. Xander could feel the overlay that was Inuyasha reaching into his own mind every time they met a new person, as if it were checking his own instincts for basic reactions; trust, avoid or attack.
Never would have thought I trusted Cordelia.
But he had, which had kept Inuyasha from automatically taking a swing at the vampire detective just on general principles. Just as his reluctant acceptance of Deadboy as an ally had just barely stopped the hanyou from slicing Angel into a demonic vampire jigsaw puzzle.
Darn.
Then again, maybe it was just as well. While the manga or anime Inuyasha could have taken Angel with one clawed hand behind his back, Xander wasn't sure his Inuyasha could.
That was Skinner, one of Lilith's more powerful Lilin, Xander knew, recalling the Marvel villain that had tried to make Johnny Blaze's life a living hell. I took him one-on-one and came out on top. Which is cool, way cool - but I had to work for it. And when it comes to strength and speed, I know Skinner's nowhere near Sesshoumaru's class.
Which had left him considering two options. Either whatever this spell was, wasn't duplicating the costume characters exactly... or someone had made sure the good guys had a handicap.
Not sure which one sucks more. Xander's white-furred ears twitched, catching a very Duo-like chortle of glee in speed, and under that, near-soundless footsteps coming up behind him. Man. That kitsune-hanyou can move!
"Himura treat you okay, Shippou?" Inuyasha demanded. "Or do I have to-"
Teeth gnawed on his head before he pried the kitsune off. "He was nice, you jerk!" Shippou huffed. "Slashed up the ningen sorcerer that had me, licked out my wounds, kept the bad guys away from me until he got Duo to take the wards off..."
"Slashed?" Ms. Calendar said warily.
"Yup! The sorcerer - he called himself Bengal - he cut me. With a licked blade. Needed kitsune blood for some kind of dark magic, trying to bind the Demon of Kyoto to serve him. Only it must not have worked too good. Kenshin took his head right off!" The transformed girl said gleefully. "Blood everywhere."
You know, when this spell wears off, this kid's going to need serious therapy. Xander thought about that a second. Hell. We're all going to need it. Only I'm not exactly sure how we'd find a shrink without getting arrested. "Hi, Doc; I need to talk to you about this guy whose throat I tore out. Well, it wasn't exactly me, I was under a spell... um, who are you calling, and why are those guys in white coats carrying those shiny needles?"
"We'd better slow down," Ms. Calendar said almost in his ear. "We're getting close."
"Huh. Close to what? Getting shopped to death?" But Inuyasha slowed his pace, gold eyes glancing about the ranks of modern businesses now lining the street, all unusually dark and empty. Merchants just didn't close this early in Kagome's time; not unless they were under a spell to not make money...
"Put me down," Buffy said in Duo's most serious on-mission tone. "I want a look-see before we get any closer."
"As do I." Kenshin set her down. "Left, or right?"
"What the heck. Left. Only I say you take right, we circle and meet, then get back here; that way, whoever's in there doesn't catch on that he's being scoped out." She tossed her braid back, giving Inuyasha a measuring look. "That okay with you, or were you just planning to break in and start smashing things?"
"Keh." The hanyou cracked his knuckles, jerked a clawed thumb toward Kenshin, then Ms. Calendar. "If they can't tell what it is this close, it must be some kind of foreign magic. Which means it might be tough to break, or easy, or just plain weird." He cocked an ear toward the running steps heralding the rest of their group, blocks away. "So go take your look and get your damn braid back here so we can all smash it."
She threw him a jaunty salute, faded into the leftward shadows. Himura ghosted away in a space between breaths; Inuyasha could just barely scent him tracing a path around and right. To the rest of his senses, the redhead didn't even exist. Ninja trained? Or what? Inuyasha wondered. Hell, he could sneak up on most demons!
The others caught up a few minutes later; Willow crouching with her head down to take stomach-settling breaths, Jonathan rubbing what had to be a sore area of chest that had rested on Giles' shoulder. "Where's B-Duo?" Angel burst out.
"Scouting," Ms. Calendar stepped in. "Not sure what the point is, I'd sense anything waiting for us in the area-"
"Maybe not. Not if you're a Jedi, anyway," Angel pointed out. "Read the recent books. There's some things that can hide from the Force."
"Yslamiri," the computer teacher slapped her forehead, looking annoyed with herself. Her hand moved almost involuntarily toward her saber. "You're right. I forgot."
"I take it they are predatory?" Giles ventured.
"Predatory, claws, fangs, temper like a wolverine having the worst day of its life - your usual man-eating monster type aliens," Angel agreed. "Not that I think there's one here, but..."
"The precedent exists," Willow finished, straightening. Her features were still pale, but set in classic Resolve Face. "I must admit, I'm not familiar with muggle surveillance procedures."
"Hey, works for me," Buffy said cheerfully, black cap pulled low as she sauntered out of the nearest alley. "I don't how you do that voodoo hoodoo either. Which I'm thinking you guys should check for, 'cause I didn't see anything even close to a halfway decent security system on the place. Sheesh! I mean, it's got to be some kind of undercover op; hello? Costume shop? Not your average one-stop black-op military shop, even for Ozzies. But the least the guy could've done was put a fingerprint lock on his back door." She buffed her nails on her black shirt. "Not that that'd slow me down, natch."
As one, the group blinked. "When this is over, you really must tell me about Duo," Giles said in stunned awe.
And she's being laid-back and polite, for Duo Maxwell, Xander thought, equally stunned. Why does that not give me a happy?
Probably because, while Buffy had only seen an episode or two in passing, he'd seen the whole series. Up to and including "Waltz", in all its weirdness. Which meant he had a pretty good grasp of the unadulterated manic humor, ruthlessness, and infiltration skills bar none that was Duo Maxwell, the self-styled God of Death.
She's not a Slayer right now, G-man. She's Shinigami. Can we run now?
"Duo-dono is correct." Kenshin stepped soundlessly out of the night. "I have little experience with spells, yet there is a... feeling... to the place beyond that of the youki pervading this night. It seems to linger near the walls; perhaps some sort of wards? And there is a strong ki within, that yet feels as if it has spent much energy."
"Most likely our dark sorcerer. Step back." Willow raised her wand, whispering a subtle chant. A trail of blue fire shot from her wand, skirling over the shop's walls and windows in flashes of brilliant azure.
"Iie!" Kenshin snapped, startled out of English.
"Son of a-" Buffy had a dull black throwing knife in her hand and a totally disgusted expression on her face.
"Damn it!" Cordelia hissed.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Inuyasha growled low. Not that he thought keeping his voice down would make a difference; any spell-caster worth his scrolls should have seen that!
"Warded, indeed," Willow concluded, apparently unconcerned that she'd blown their element of surprise to hell and gone. "But while the barriers hold strong within the walls, they do have one weakness." She pointed at the shop door, with its Closed sign on prominent display.
Inuyasha drew Tetsuseiga, steel transforming to the razor-edged fang. "Then I say we knock."
Humming, Ethan Rayne polished a silver ceremonial athame, reveling in the chaotic reports cropping up on the battery-operated TV he'd brought into the back room.
"...The National Weather Service is still unable to explain the Force Five waterspout that briefly touched down on Sunnydale's beaches, carrying off an unknown number of Halloween beach-partygoers..."
"...Mayor Wilkins remains unavailable for comment, after the west half of City Hall was destroyed in a violent explosion. Reports of a very wily coyote carrying dynamite remain unsubstantiated at this time..."
"...Zombies! What seem to be flesh-eating zombies with skinless, bloody attack-trained Dobermans are on the rampage through downtown, currently abandoning their pursuit of hapless bystanders to face off with a determined woman in white and a man who's just thrown off his red-and-white cloak - I've never seen any sword move that fast!-"
"...And where, I ask, is Animal Control? Bizarre as it may seem, people, black falcons with white 'V' markings, giant sand-colored cats, and odd, white or black horses appear to have been accosting innocent civilians who then act very strange, even for Halloween. This reporter's own print counterpart was kidnapped by a bizarre white horse with blue eyes. I don't care what you think you've been 'Chosen' for, Gary, get back here!-"
Ethan admired the fine shine of silver, tching as he saw a trace of blood caught up near the grip. Careless, careless; he'd definitely need to go more slowly with the next sacrifice.
Ah, but even that couldn't ruin his good mood. He'd cast spells of chaos before, but this one, cast on the very Hellmouth itself... oh, it was lovely. A pity it was meant to end at dawn. Or at least, at a dawn, the background of the Gaulish enchantment was a little unclear-
"Kaze no Kizu!"
The world exploded.
When the ringing in his ears died down to a low roar, Ethan realized he was flattened beside the statue of Janus, covered in debris, pieces of shelving, and shreds of the curtain that had blocked off the back room from view. What was left of his sundered front door was still smoking, embedded in the wall within inches of where his head had been.
"Anybody home?" the same sardonic voice called out.
Ethan tried to stifle a groan.
"Indeed there is," Rupert's grim tones floated back to him.
"I'm going to take a wild guess here, and say the green glowing head-statue falls into the not-good category," the Slayer put in.
"Janus. A Roman god," the Watcher bit out.
"Mythical," the formerly meek redhead said in dry, proper tones.
"Perhaps in your reality, Professor," Rupert allowed. "Here, it represents the division of self. Male and female. Light and dark."
"Chunky and creamy." Smirking, Ethan got to his feet, brushing off bits of debris. "Oh no, sorry, that's peanut butter."
Dark eyes bored into his from the front doorway, glowing with red hints of flame as Rupert's gloved hand twitched toward his katana. Behind him crowded a dazzling mix of characters; Ethan saw fox ears and dog, green Jedi robes and a gray suit, swords and wands and one green-glowing scythe. "Hello, Ethan."
The chaos sorcerer smirked wider. Found some bits of your own memory, did you? Not that surprising; Watchers were apparently trained to resist mental manipulation, just in case something made it past their Slayers. Which meant he had a wonderful opportunity for fun. "Hello, Ripper."
Giles growled.
"What? No hug?" Not that you can. Though you don't know that yet.
"I'm just surprised I didn't guess it was you," Rupert said coldly. "This stunt stinks of Ethan Rayne."
"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Ethan folded the knife into his sleeve. Never could tell when a silver dagger might come in handy. "Genius. The very embodiment of 'be careful what you wish for'."
"It's sick, brutal, and it harms the innocent." Fangs showed in a snarl.
"And we all know you are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good, Rupert," Ethan mused. "It's quite a little act you've got going here, old man." He gave the hellhound in human form a long look. "Or should I say, had."
Points of ruby flared in dark eyes. "It's no act. It's who I am."
"The Watcher, sniveling, tweed-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin? I think not. I know who you are, Rupert, and I know what you're capable of." Ethan shrugged, darkly amused. "And after this night... so will they."
Rupert's gaze went cold. "Break the spell, Ethan. Then leave this place and never come back."
Ah, Ripper. Still trying to hide, while the Watcher negotiated. Well, best to play along. It was more entertaining. "Why should I? What's in the bargain for me?"
"You get to live."
Ethan snorted. "Oh, Rupert, you're scaring me."
"Good." Rupert stepped forward. "Now, to end this-" Static zapped.
"What the hell?" The Slayer's outburst was accompanied by a myriad of smaller zaps, as she jabbed the butt of her scythe at the wards protecting the empty air of the front doorway. "Some kind of forcefield?"
"In a manner of speaking." Ethan chuckled. "Oh, come now, Ripper. You didn't think I'd let heroes loose on this night without making sure not one of them could touch me-"
Chill steel pressed against his throat, carrying the unmistakable feel of an otherworldly aura.
"You forgot your back door, Rayne-san," an amber-eyed redhead said softly.
No, the chaos sorcerer thought in one moment of crystal clarity. I didn't.
Janus preserve me. This is not a costume.
And if the wards didn't hold it out - it's not a true demon, either. Japanese magic, blended with mine, and an aura of blood... Bengal's demon!
Bengal's demon... is a hanyou.
Oh gods, that bloody fool-!
"Dliw sdniw tfil em tfola!" - "Wild winds lift me aloft!"
Konban wa - "Good night."
taiyoukai - "lordly youkai"; much more powerful than average.
kyuuketsuki - vampire.
jyaki - aura of demon power.
youki - demon energy.
teme - "you bastard".
urusai - "Shut up".
maa, maa - calm down.
tengu - "goblins"; karasu tengu, specifically, were legendary for (among other things) teaching certain sword-styles to human heroes.
youkai - supernatural creature; may be translated as demon, wraith, monster.
hanyou - "half-demon".
iie - no.