This chapter is horribly late, and I apologise massively. This was caused by life and the worst case of writer's block I've ever had. An amazing trip to Italy with my girlfriend also occurred, and frankly if you ever see the Forum Romanum in the early morning light you start to get goosebumps. Started a few plot bunnies as well. Enjoy!
The real estate agent was, to use a word, perky. Everything about her spoke of a deep underlying perkiness, from her carefully bobbed hair to her fashionably sensible shoes. Lindsay looked at her and for a moment wished that they could swap jobs. Trying to push property on the Hellmouth had to be better than working for Wolfram & Hart, right? He sighed quietly while the woman babbled gently but professionally about the location, the potential and the price, before he raised a hand and cut her off. "Thank you, but I'm sure that my company will find the building more than satisfactory. I'll send everything through to my office and we'll be in touch in by the end of the day.
The real estate agent blinked hard at this. She was obviously used to the hard sell. Pushing at an open door must have been a new sensation. She smiled broadly and escorted him out.
As he left the building Lindsey nodded at the woman and walked off, taking out his cell phone and hitting speed dial.
"Good morning Lindsey," said Holland, "How did the tour go?"
"It went well, sir. The place seems perfect – I'll email everything over so you can see all the details, but the place has a lot to recommend it."
"I'm sure that I trust your judgment," purred Holland. "Good job Lindsey. If you don't have any loose ends to tie up you can take a few days off. You've done a good job. The Senior Partners have been most impressed."
Lindsey shuddered slightly. "Thank you," he said, the words sounding hollow in his ears, "I'll see you in a few days." He turned his cell phone off and stared blankly at the building in front of him. He really hoped that he wasn't going to be posted there. He had heard nasty rumours about Wolfram & Hart offices on Hellmouths. Apparently they either never lasted very long or they went rogue. The firm kept trying though. They never ran out of guinea pigs.
He scratched the back of his head and moved off towards his car. He had the oddest feeling that he was being watched. It had been there all day, ever since he left his hotel, but whenever he looked around he couldn't see anyone. It was driving him nuts. It was probably just Hellmouth-induced paranoia. The place was starting to get to him. At least his head didn't hurt any more. He would have loved to have known just why though. The Osbourne guy had looked at him and muttered something under his breath, as his headache slowly receded. It might have been a spell or something because his wound had started to heal quite quickly. Someone else to look into perhaps.
His memories of the attempted Ascension of Wilkins were ones that he wanted to get rid of. The thing was that he had another nagging feeling that he had missed something. He vaguely remembered seeing a green light to one side and a blue to another, but frankly at the time he'd had other things to worry about, like stopping a vampire from knocking him out for the count.
He shrugged mentally. He wanted to forget as much as possible about that battle. He was a lawyer damn it, not a grunt. Although it was a good thing that he hadn't been with the security personnel that Holland had sent to Granton, all of whom were extremely dead. Apparently the van they were in looked as if someone had painted the walls with blood and entrails. It looked as if Wilkins had been covering his bets before the event and had been keeping an eye out for possible incursions. In that one event he'd been right on the money. True, he had failed to plan for a massed student uprising with weapons attached, but he had obviously thought of everything else. Lindsey shrugged and wandered off in the general direction of his hotel. It was late in the afternoon and he needed a beer badly.
Xander looked across the road using the reflection thrown by a shop window and tilted his head slightly as he watched McDonald walk up the road. Well, it looked as if the empty office was soon to be filled with evil lawyers. Giles was going to pitch a fit about that one, he could just tell. Although when he had called the Watcher a few hours before to tell him that Monica Ladwinski was showing the lawyer around empty offices in Sunnydale the man had simply sighed slightly and then muttered something about the Watcher's Council needing to get their collective arses in gear and pull something legal. If Giles wasn't too worried then neither was he. But the last thing that they needed was a collection of evil lawyers in town. Vampires and demons were bad enough.
He narrowed his eyes slightly and tugged the baseball cap a bit further down. What would make it worse would be if McDonald was working there as well. The thought of a Force-wielding evil lawyer have him the creeping horrors, especially if this Wolfram & Hart firm was as bad as Giles and Wesley seemed to think.
That led to the other thing that he was worrying about. For some time now he'd been wondering who the other Padawan mentioned by the Host in Caritas would be. From the reference to them being 'halfway' to the Dark Side, it could well be McDonald. The problem was the evil lawyer job. That sounded all the way to the Dark Side, although McDonald didn't feel evil. Confused yes, evil no, apart from a slight patina of darkness. This brought up a number of issues that led to memories of Anakin Skywalker and his descent into evil, memories made Xander grit his teeth slightly. The only other person with Force abilities that he had found so far was Oz, and he had decided to accept training partly as a way to keep his inner fluffy befanged self at bay. True, Oz had seen the benefits that stretched beyond that and was now a truly gifted Consular Jedi, but it had been his choice. Xander had simply identified his potential and trained him. Training for the sake of training in the Force was a bad idea if all that would result was a Sith lawyer. Evil was evil. Even just telling McDonald about his potential abilities was a risk. But there were other issues at stake as well, ones which made him thoughtful. It was something that he was going to discuss with Giles later on.
He sighed. Turning Wilkins in a blob of charred grease on the walls of the school had removed one threat, but now they had to deal with evil lawyers. Well, that was Sunnydale for you. Never a dull moment. He paused. McDonald had entered a bar. Well, a pub really, it was the place that Giles and Wesley hung out in occasionally and played darts. It looked as if he'd need the G-Man to pick up the trail here, as even with the Jedi mind trick he'd have trouble walking into that place without being spotted for an underage customer.
Pulling out his cell phone he hit speed dial. He didn't think that Giles would mind this little chore at all.
It was something called Stella Artois and it came in pints. And Lindsey liked it. It was cold, it was wet and it took the edge off his thirst. It also, he suspected, had amnesiac properties if taken in large amounts. Lindsey sipped some of the contents of the pint glass and felt a lot better. He would pack up at noon tomorrow or the next day, drive back to LA, drop the car off at the office and head on home, maybe going in to work the day after. Until then he had some time off for once. Wow.
Looking up he caught sight of himself in a mirror across the room and frowned slightly. Well, Wilkins had been stopped. That was good. Even Holland would have to admit that. He had fought on the side of the Slayers, so to speak. That was, in the Wolfram & Hart scheme of things, probably bad but needs must when the devil drives and all that crap. He had done a good thing. He had to admit that it had felt good to take part in that charge, to lash out with that sword. Okay, he'd been terrified at times, but at the same time a part of him had felt happy to be doing something positive. Killing vampires. Well, all of three vampires. Not a lot, but on the balance sheet of life that had to count for something.
He thought about the phrase 'balance sheet of life' and wondered where the hell that had come from. Freaky. What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking all these dumb thoughts? Since when had he cared about doing something positive?
He heard the sound of a full glass of beer being placed on the table and looked up. Rupert Giles was sitting opposite him, wearing a beige shirt and jeans. He looked very serious.
"Staying in Sunnydale long?" asked the Watcher after a long moment.
"I'm leaving in the next day or so," muttered Lindsey. "Straight back to LA. I've got a day or two off."
Giles sipped his beer thoughtfully and then gave him a very brief smile. "How considerate of your employers. Mind if I ask who your superior is by the way? The Watchers' Council does like to keep up to date on who to keep a weather eye on."
Despite himself Lindsey smiled at the thought of Holland and this guy ever clashing. "Holland Manners."
"Manners, Manners," mused the Englishman as he leant back in his chair and looked at the ceiling in a considering way. "Not a name that I've come across myself. However, is he any relation to Nathaniel Manners?"
Lindsey blinked. "No clue. Never heard of him."
"He was one of the lawyers that your firm sent to Germany in 1946. I think he was supposed to defend Kaltenbrunner, the piece of slime that ran some of the death camps and the SS intelligence service. There's an oxymoron for you." Giles's eyes came back down to lock onto his. "I believe that I mentioned my Grandfather and his part in taking care of them all."
A chill ran through Lindsey. This was a very hard man. He made another mental note to check out this guy's file. It should be damn interesting.
"So," said the Watcher, "I take it that Wolfram & Hart is going to be opening a new office here. In Sunnydale." He held up his pint and admired the colour of the golden liquid inside. "The same place as the Slayer. Well, Slayers."
Lindsey paused for a moment. "Well, we're looking at a few properties. After Wilkins'… demise… the firm is going to look at a few places. And maybe here."
The Brit laughed dryly. "Are you saying that that Wolfram & Hart, after a century of being shut out of a Hellmouth, isn't going to try and obtain at least some form of foothold here? Mr McDonald, please don't treat me as a fool." He placed his beer back on the table and directed a very keen and piercing stare at Lindsey. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure. But the answer depends on a few things, like if I want to respond," replied Lindsey wryly.
"You seem a tad unsure of your purpose here. And your actions so far seem to suggest that you are not fully apprised of your firm's plans. Or is there a deeper… problem? I think that you are a bit uneasy, Mr McDonald. Not about this place, but perhaps about your role here. Am I right?"
Lindsey's scalp crawled. This guy was right on the money. It was freaking uncanny, it was as if he was picking up on the uneasiness that he'd been feeling since the whole Graduation Day event. Right. Time to bluff. "I don't know what you mean."
Another long, searching gaze came from the Watcher. "I think you do," he said softly. Then he sat up and drained his glass. "Nevertheless, please pass this on to your superiors. Note that I said 'your superiors' and not 'you', because I think that you might just have a few qualms about what they are and therefore you might not be headed down the same soulless road that awaits them. If Wolfram & Hart establishes an office here, the full force of the Watcher's Council will be deployed against your firm. And that is official. Goodbye Mr McDonald." And then he left.
Lindsey sat there for several minutes, his eyes locked on the now vacant chair opposite him. He had a lot of thinking to do.
Giles sat down in his favourite armchair and sighed slightly. Then he reached out and picked up his cup of tea before looking at the Jedi Knight sitting opposite him. Xander was now wearing a beige shirt and trousers with boots and looked, well, rather like he belonged in those clothes. If he didn't look like a Jedi Knight then he looked like the Earth version of one. Which brought up some interesting questions.
He cleared his throat. "Well, McDonald seems to be a bit of an enigma. A lawyer with Wolfram & Hart but with added… uncertainties. Most interesting." He paused. "I'm not sure that he knows what he's doing. But the Jedi powers is the point that worries me the most."
Xander leant forwards, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Me too. He can use the Force – he pulled his sword into his hand during the fight against the Mayor's flunkies – but I don't think that he knows what he can do with it. It felt… unfocused, forced, as if he was reacting blindly." He leant back in his chair. "And the fact that he works for an evil law firm frankly scares the proverbial crap out of me. He might not know what he can do, but will they be able to detect it? Use it? Use him?"
That was a very good point and Giles let out a long sigh. He had seen some of the files about Wolfram & Hart in the past, both from the Watcher's Council and Room 42, and both organizations would love to dance on the law firm's grave. Hell, if it was possible then some people would install a dance floor and hire a selection of bands.
"To be honest Xander I don't know. But I don't think that they would allow him to walk away. Not alive anyway. That firm has links to the darkest regions of a number of particular nasty hells and wouldn't hesitate to use those links to gain what they want. And if the – I believe the term is 'Senior Partners', which is a very formal expression for what are a number of powerful, old and very evil demons – people at the top of Wolfram & Hart ever find out about McDonald's powers then they'll use him however they see fit."
Sipping his tea thoughtfully he looked at the Jedi. Xander had a slight frown on his face, which was his version of a massive scowl. To be honest he had to feel for the man. So far his one Padawan learner had been a gifted, empathetic young man with a great deal of promise. To learn that a lawyer from a firm that had an excellent view of the first circle of Hell and probably sold popcorn to people who wanted to watch demons torture people, had a link to the Force must have been terrifying. His mind wandered to Darth Vader for a moment and he shuddered. What would make a man descend to that level? Or the Emperor for that matter? Why would someone embrace evil? One answer came to mind in the form of a single word – power. And power was something that Wolfram & Hart loved, reveled in, worshipped. No, he could understand Xander's hesitation. Help or hinder?
As if the Jedi could hear his thoughts, Xander stood up and paced over to the window, where he stared out. After a moment he looked back at the Watcher. "Giles, I think I need to do some probing. Find out what he knows. And try and see how deep this firm of creepo scumbags have got their talons – or whatever they have – into him. I keep thinking back to the Host in LA – he was the demon I told you about who could see your future when you sing. He said that I'd have two Padawans. He saw Oz and that turned out ok. But he said that my second would be halfway down the path to the Dark Side and I think that this Lindsey guy is the one that he was talking about. He also said that I wasn't to worry – that I was me and not Obi-Wan Kenobi. So that means that McDonald might not be another version of Anakin Skywalker. I hope. So maybe no mini-Vader."
Giles felt his eyebrows go up. "Ah. I never did understand why, um, Anakin did turn evil."
Sighing deeply Xander closed his eyes for a moment, When he looked up again there was a deep pain in his gaze. "Anger. Plus desperation. He dreamt that his wife was going to die. And he thought that the Dark Side could save her. It was all a lie. Palpatine manipulated him into thinking that the Dark Side was stronger than the Light. Plus it was a time of war. Anger, confusion, desperation – it's a bad mix Giles. And because the Jedi didn't know that he was married they failed to realise the pressures that he was under. And they didn't know about Palpatine being a Sith until it was far too late – they were dancing to his tune, not him to theirs. I have some bad memories of it. Very bad." He thought about Mustafar for a moment and then shuddered internally. No. Not that.
The Jedi's face hardened slightly as he walked back over. "And I will not abandon a possible Force user to the Dark Side Giles. There is good in him, I can feel it. He isn't lost to evil yet. There is a chance to turn him away. And I won't let the scumbags at Wolfram & Hart take him. We can't. Too much rests on this thing. Can you imagine the harm that a Sith could do on Earth? Hell, we almost saw it when Amy accidentally dragged a dark version of me through from another dimension. Well not on my watch. I am a Jedi Knight. And I will do what is right."
Giles looked at him. He was right. The man had also come a long way. Nodding slowly the Watcher put his cup down. Right then. Time to broach a few matters.
"I agree. If you can redeem him then that removes a potential weapon from the hands of the nastiest group of demons around on Earth and gives us another ally. Xander, so far I have trusted your judgment implicitly. I see no reason to doubt you now. Please act as you see fit. Just please keep me informed.
"That said, there is another matter. I don't think that I'm being too prying when I say that I'm surprised that you're not going to College. However, your reasons are your own. I would like to ask you about your future plans, especially as I have a possible avenue for you to explore." He leant back in his seat and looked at the Jedi. "I'd like to invite you to become a Watcher."
Xander stared at him in what seemed to be the Jedi version of astonishment. Then, as he opened his mouth, Giles held up a hand to forestall him. "Not, I stress, a full Watcher or a trainee one. I feel that your talents are somewhat interestingly similar to those roles, but that you have grown in certain areas beyond the limits normally defined by the title of Watcher."
Pulling his glasses off he started to polish them with his handkerchief. "There is a Welsh phrase for the role I have in mind – " Sylwedydd Cysgod" – which roughly translates as Shadow Watcher. It's a very old title, for a role that the Watcher's Council has largely forgotten about. It's an independent post, one that allows a great deal of latitude in helping and training Slayers, and it's one that I feel needs to be resurrected. With you in the post, as I feel that otherwise anyone else would be redundant."
Xander stared at the Watcher with the Jedi version of bafflement. "You want me to become a what?" he asked after a while.
"A Watcher. Well, a sort of Watcher, one that plays to your strengths." He looked at the Jedi and sighed. "Xander, when Buffy first came to Sunnydale and we had the little incident with the Master where you and Willow found out that she was the Slayer I will admit that I was somewhat dismayed. As you saw with Kendra, secrecy was supposed to be the order of the day – the Slayer was not supposed to be known to her friends and family. However, you found out. Frankly the pair of you coped in a way that I didn't expect. Just as importantly you have both acted as a valuable touchstone for Buffy, keeping her aware of the world that exists outside slaying.
"But above all your ability to tap into your Jedi memories have especially impressed me. Your skills with the Force have had a major impact on events, Xander. You saw through Post in a flash. You have helped Buffy out of a number of potentially very dangerous situations, in the process taking her sword fighting skills to a new level. And above all you helped us to see that Faith was in trouble, that she needed to be brought in and treated on a different level than Buffy. I didn't see that and Wesley certainly didn't. Without your insights I shudder to think what might have happened. And I'm not saying that I want you to become a full Watcher – just, as it were, an advisor. A Jedi version of a Watcher from the shadows, helping, um, advising, pointing out what you think."
Giles sank back in his seat and looked grim. "The Watcher's Council is divided between modernisers and conservatives, with a few moderates in between. I consider myself a moderniser, just as my parents did, along with Faith's previous Watcher Mrs Horrocks. Unfortunately the conservative faction is in charge, although they do not yet suspect the size of the movement to modernise. As a part of that movement I want things to change. We need new ideas, new, new concepts. And we need new Watchers. And new helpers."
"I understand that, Giles, and I sympathise, I really do. But I'm not sure that I want any information about what Oz and I can do to be out there in the wide world."
This brought a smile from the Watcher. "Xander any information on you would be confined to me. I have done my homework on this. The job of a shadow watcher was often highly confidential and any information was kept very secret. You can trust me with this. All the Council would know would be that I have recruited someone. They may raise a few eyebrows at the secrecy involved, but ironically enough Quentin Travers, the head of the Council, is a traditionalist and would therefore approve. Although what he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Letting out a sigh Xander stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know about this. To tell the truth Giles I have been thinking about what to do from this point onwards. Oz is going to College to be with Willow. As for me… I have the grades, but I didn't feel that my path led me on the same path. I just have this… feeling that I'm supposed to be doing something else next year. I don't know what yet though. I'd go on helping Buffy no matter what happened, but I just feel that the Force is tugging me somewhere new. I need to meditate on this one. Maybe allow the Force to guide me."
The Watcher directed a level gaze at him. "At least think it over, Xander. I'm not asking for an instant decision. And in addition access to the resources of the Watcher's Council would bring several benefits. Research for one. A salary for another – and yes, I do know that Jedi don't look to material rewards, but this is Earth and you can't pay bills with good deeds. Like I said, think it over."
Nodding quietly Xander grinned quickly. "Yeah, well Uncle Rory has been asking if I need a job any time soon. Now that he's working back at the garage he's getting more work in and people are starting to remember that he's not a bad mechanic now that he's sober again. Using the Force to take engines out of cars is not my idea of the right thing to do."
He paused as the phone rang and Giles leant over to answer it. "Hello? Oh, Faith. Is everything… Oh. Good. Loading his car is he? Ah. Interesting. Well, he did say that he was leaving sometime soon. Where? Um. How interesting, I left him in a pub. No, I think that we can relieve you. Yes, Buffy will be patrolling as well. Good god, I don't want to know what you're going to shake at the Bronze! Yes, thank you Faith. Good luck."
Giles put the phone down and raised his eyebrows. "American girls in the grip of dancing are strange creatures." Then he looked up at the Jedi and smiled wryly. "Well Faith says that McDonald loaded his car up a short time ago and is now in a bar just off Grant Avenue called, originally enough, Grant's. I think that one of us should cover pop in and keep an eye on him. Shall we toss a coin?"
"Nah, I'll do it. It's on my way home anyway and I can swing past a few cemeteries afterwards." He paused. "And yes, Giles, I'll think about it."
It was another nice bar. You'd think that there would be more people in it, but hey maybe some people had finally cottoned on to the dangers of being out at night. Lindsey wasn't sure about that. The death of the Mayor had sparked a few headlines, but nothing outside Sunnydale really. It was a bit suspicious. Certainly the way that Wilkins' administration had at once imploded messily had been reported – or rather brushed under the carpet – had reinforced that. Wolfram & Hart would love having an office in this place. Some of the corporate weasels that worked for the company would probably have an orgasm on the spot at the very thought of it.
He frowned slightly and looked at his beer. He was wondering though why Wolfram & Hart hadn't had an office in what was Boca Del Inferno before Wilkins had dug his slimy claws into the place. He had an odd feeling that the Sunnydale Office would not be a nice place to be based.
Speaking of odd feelings he had another one right now and he rubbed the back of his neck with a shiver. It came and went and it had been there ever since the afternoon when Wilkins had turned himself into a large slug. It was very strong at the moment and he looked around warily.
The bar was half empty, with a group of businessmen in one corner with their jackets off, obviously winding down after a day at the office, and an off-duty cop with a thousand-yard stare off to one side. A sprinkling of couples along with their friends – and then he saw him. Alexander – sorry, Xander – Harris was standing in the shadows off to one side. He seemed a bit fuzzy, as if he was blending in to the background, but he was there. He also looked rather thoughtful. Lindsey nodded at him and the teenager frowned slightly, as if he was wondering something.
That was something else. His memories of Graduation Day were a bit fuzzy in places – he had been fighting for his life after all – but the more he thought about it, the more came back. He remembered something about some kind of blue light being near the kid during the battle. He hadn't seen it very well, due to the fact that a whole bunch of vampires were trying to either kill him or knock him out, but something had been there. For another thing the kid didn't act like a kid. He was quiet, composed and looked like a coiled spring sometimes. But he still cracked jokes with his friends and obviously cared deeply about them. It was puzzling.
He started slightly as he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye and then relaxed. Harris had come over and was sitting next to him at the counter, nodding at the barman and asking for an orange juice.
"You know, Harris," he drawled, pausing to drain some of his beer, "Most kids your age wouldn't be allowed in here. Although they'd have some great fake ID to rustle up some illicit beer. I know that I did."
The kid directed a long, searching, gaze at him. "This is Sunnydale," he said quietly after a long moment. "Drinking a lot of beer after sunset is a great way to end up dead. And I'm not like most kids my age."
That looked like it was very true. Whatever had happened to the kid – to Harris that is, the guy was no longer a kid – it had been something pretty powerful. Something that had brought him to Wilkins' attention and that meant that it was probably something magical. The question was first what was it, and second why hadn't Wilkins tried to deal with Harris himself. Or if he had, what had happened? Why had the now-dead Mayor tried to drag Harris's scent across the trail as a diversion for Wolfram & Hart?
"No, I don't think you are," he muttered, before looking at him nonchalantly. Maybe a small lure might help. "Did you know that Wilkins mentioned you when I was here to negotiate the Arrangement with him? He said that you were worth watching."
Harris went up in his estimation, because the guy didn't even blink. Instead he just smiled slightly and drank his orange juice. "I'm sure he did. Watch me instead of him? Not very subtle."
"Yes, but why would he mention you and not, say, that Giles guy?"
"Does your firm have files on Giles?"
"He's a Watcher to a Slayer. Of course they do."
"Then maybe that was too obvious. Anyway, the point is moot, to use a Gilesism. Wilkins is a load of scattered bits of fried you-know-what." Harris drank some more orange juice. "By the way can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Why did you say 'they' instead of 'we' when talking about Wolfram & Hart? I just found it interesting."
His drink was almost halfway down his throat at this point, but Lindsey did a magnificent job of not choking. Instead he replayed his words in his head, winced – on the inside – and put the glass down quietly. "Slip of the tongue," he said. "Working for Wolfram & Hart is an… interesting experience."
This earned him another long assessing glance from Harris. "Interesting choice of words," he said eventually, "Especially given the type of client that your company represents." He lowered his voice. "Giles gave me all the news about the lower circles of hell and how they have W&H's number in their rolodex. Do you sleep well at night, knowing what your clients are getting up to? What you're going to have to get them acquitted for? When you get some murdering vampire off and your boss slaps you on the back and says 'well done Lindsey, have a stogie on me', do you think about just what it is that you've done? And the fact that the blood that was on your client's hands might have rubbed off onto yours?"
Harris was looking right at him now and his eyes seemed to pin Lindsey to the spot, as if a sword had pierced him. An irrational anger stirred vaguely. Who the hell was this guy to judge him? Had he had the same kind of life as Lindsey? Hell no. He'd had it easy here… the anger drained away. On the Hellmouth. A place filled with potential blood and death on a scale that he'd rather not think about. Especially for a child growing up here.
He tore his gaze away and concentrated on his drink. Looking to his front was a bad idea as he didn't want to see his expression in the mirror behind the counter. Why did these places have mirrors in the same place? "I have a job. I do my job," he said eventually.
"Do you enjoy it?" Harris asked in an intent voice. It was a voice that seemed to reach down inside the lawyer and screamed at him to answer with the truth. The fuzzy feeling was back again now and was very strong, making it seem as if Harris's voice had something overlaid onto it. Was it magic? He opened his mouth to answer and then caught himself, but it was still a struggle to make his lips meet again and stifle the words that would otherwise have ripped from his throat.
"I… do my job," he said eventually, in a voice that was as devoid of any emotion as Lindsey could make it.
Harris tilted his head at this and looked at him intently again. "Interesting," he muttered.
At this, Lindsey's head came up. "What the hell was that? What was that thing in your voice?" he hissed. But Harris wasn't listening – instead his head had snapped around suddenly and he was staring across the room at the door. Following his gaze Lindsey looked over to see a beautiful young woman come in. She had long black hair, was wearing a dark green dress and looked like she had just popped in to have a wine before meeting a friend. As she walked to the bar more than a few heads turned.
"Nuts," said Harris in a thoughtful voice as he threw the remains of his orange juice down his throat. "Why does do they try to get sneaky? A dedicated follower of fashion, trying to blend in."
"Who is? What are you talking about?" asked Lindsey, feeling confused.
"The Lady is a Vamp. Harry?" The barman walked over. "How long has she been coming in here?"
Harry the barman looked over at the woman, who was trying to attract his attention with a rolled-up $20 bill. "Never seen her before, Xander. She a friend of yours?"
"Nope, she's one of those customers who'll give this place a bad name for attracting corpses. Someone who doesn't tan well, shall we say? I'll take care of her." Xander leant forwards. "Let me get this for you," he called.
Smiling with what Lindsey could see was apparent sincerity, the woman strolled over, although the lawyer couldn't help notice the slight predatory twist that briefly appeared on her lips. She didn't look threatening to him at least.
"Thanks," she purred, "Can I buy you one in ret-" Suddenly Harris leant forwards, his lips smiling but his eyes totally without humour.
"You're going to leave this place now," he said and suddenly Lindsey could feel that odd fuzzy feeling again. The woman just stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Harris, her mouth open and an unfocussed look to her eyes.
"I'm going to leave this place now," she mumbled.
"You're not going to feed here."
"I'm not going to feed here…"
"You're going to wait for me outside."
"I'll wait for you outside…" She wheeled abruptly and marched towards the door, ignoring several potential chat-up lines from some of the men that she passed.
Harris watched her go wryly and then shook his head. "Smart, but weak-minded fangface. Good to get. Ah well." He looked at Lindsey. "Think about what you're doing, Mr McDonald. Think about it real hard, because I don't think that you like the place where you've found yourself. If you'll excuse me I've got a vampire to behead."
As he turned to go Lindsey found his voice. "Wait, what was that, magic?" he hissed, his eyes meeting Harris's for a moment. "What did you just do?"
"I protect the innocent. And for the record, it wasn't magic. It was…" He smiled as he considered his next words. "Something else. Have a nice trip out of Sunnydale. And keep thinking. I don't think you're meant to be evil, you know." And then Harris sauntered out, removing something metallic from under his jacket as he approached the door.
Lindsey watched him go, a frown on his face. He had been using something, some kind of power. He said it wasn't magic, but what did that leave? Tapping his finger on the counter thoughtfully he blinked and turned back to his empty glass before catching the barman's eye and ordering another drink. As he puzzled over what had happened his frown deepened. He had the feeling that something was right under his nose, but that he couldn't make out its shape.
The house was quiet when he returned home and he paused for a moment in the hallway to savour the near-silence. Somewhere a clock was ticking and the traffic on the main road had died down to a slight murmur of noise. Xander looked around and then walked upstairs to his room, where he sat at his desk and looked out through the window at Sunnydale.
What was out there? What was stirring under the ground? With the Mayor gone what was the latest Big Bad to start to wiggle its fingers – if it had any – into the place? And what else was on the horizon, apart from a flock of lawyers from an evil law firm?
A sigh escaped him. He had a lot of choices ahead of him. The kind of choices that would change his life. Again. And he had to get a better idea of what was going on – what might be ahead of them all. There were two ways he could go about this. Neither was easy and one involved singing. As for the other – there was a chance that he might get at least some pointers from the Force. The chances were that they would be confusing as hell, and possibly very alarming if he failed to place them in the right context, but at least he'd get an idea of what the road ahead might contain. It wouldn't be easy, but he could at least check out the general thrust of things by visiting Caritas and having a word with the man in green. He paused for a moment. Did he want to do this? Well, to be honest no. But he had a nasty feeling that he had to. He sighed.
Hopping off the chair, Xander turned the light off with a flick of the Force and sat down on the floor, crossing his legs as he did. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of air and concentrated on meditation, on deep and even breaths of air while he slowly opened himself to the living Force. It had currents and eddies here and there, patches of light and shade in places. He could feel the people around him as they slept and woke, ate, drank, made love and lived in a thousand threads of life in the immediate area around him. There were other things as well, animals and plants together as they grew and lived and died, from the cat that was asleep in the tree outside to the tiny bug that was falling through the air above the house, dying as it lived the last seconds of its short life. All were a part of the Force, surrounding them and binding them together in a great sea of unity.
He could see that vast entity, he could see the flow of the currents and he allowed his mind to slow as he studied it, looking at where it had been-
-The three figures ran down the corridor, sprinting to escape the flames as the Mayor's dying shriek still hung in the air before the sound of the explosion ripped it from existence-
…to where it was…
- The vampire smiled as it slunk in the shadows, coming up to the blonde girl who was talking so intently to someone called Willow on her cellphone, completely oblivious to her stalker. As he bared his fangs and prepared to pounce she whipped around suddenly, a stake in her hand and then he was looking down to see it in his heart and then –
…to where it was going to be…
- Lindsey McDonald stared at the figure to one side, his face a mask of hatred… a tall man in fatigues looked at a list on a clipboard and winced… three figures in strange armour and tattoos on their foreheads turned to look at him, their faces twisting in alarm as they leveled equally odd staffs at him, the tips of which split apart with a whine of energy… a bald man in air force blue looked at a giant stone ring… a snarl came from the shadows and then a red lightsabre ignited with a hiss. "Time to die Jedi," said a voice that was unrecognisable…-
Xander's eyes snapped open but he didn't move from his position. Instead he ran the images through his head dispassionately. This was no time to do a Luke Skywalker and leap into deeply premature action. No, this was a time to sit and analyse. And think. Too much was at stake here to go off at half-cock. Although Willow would probably be babbling at this point. After a long moment of contemplation he shook his head. "Road trip."
Giles peered over his spectacles and gazed at the Jedi carefully. "Road trip?" he repeated uncertainly. "Ummm, where to?"
"LA. A demon bar run by a guy called the Host. I think I told you about him before."
"Oh, yes. The, um, demon who can see the future when you sing." Giles pulled his glasses off and started to polish them heavily. "Can I ask why? Have you seen something?"
The Jedi sighed and sat down on the sofa, his eyes far away. "Giles," he said eventually, "Last night I did a little Force surfing. I meditated in the hope that I'd get a glimpse of what might lie ahead of us. And boy, it was some glimpse. I think it's all tied together, but I don't know how or where or why."
Realising that he felt a bit wobbly Giles sank into his favourite armchair. "At the risk of sounding like a scold, was that, ah, altogether wise? We both know the dangers inherent in trying to predict the future. What you think might happen is seldom borne out by subsequent events."
This earned him a pained nod. "I know, Giles, I know. But I felt that it had to be done. All I saw were flashes, but it was what was in those flashes that freaked me out slightly."
"What did you see?" asked Giles in tones that combined curiousity and dread.
"Our lawyer friend looking very pissed – I mean angry – with the world. A soldier with a list. Some guys in odd armour with staffs that split open at the ends and tattoos on their foreheads. A bald and rather well-fed guy looking at a big stone ring. And…" The Jedi took a deep breath, "Someone with a red lightsabre and a bad attitude to Jedi. Maybe a Sith."
There was a long pause. Then Giles pursed his lips thoughtfully and replaced his glasses. "You're sure it was a Sith?"
"Maybe. They – I couldn't see if it was a he or a she – might have been. And then might not have been. I don't know. Which is why I want to consult the Host. He should be able to tell me what lies in my immediate future. And what I need to start to do."
Giles sat there, his mind racing. "Can I ask if you have any memories of Obi-Wan being able to interpret visions of the future with the Force?"
This time the Jedi shrugged. "Yes and no. Small things only – by the time that Palpatine made his big grab for power, the Dark Side was clouding everything, so Obi-Wan was never able to see with much clarity. I know enough not to want to analyse what I saw to death, Giles. Chances are that's a great way to make some wrong guesses and get blindsided by real events. Which is why I think we need an expert view on this."
Xander leant forwards. "Besides, I think that it would be good for Buffy to get away from the Hellmouth for a while. Maybe Willow and Oz as well. We've all been fighting so hard recently that I think that a break might be a great way to catch our breath."
However, this earnt him another level stare from the Watcher. "You want this Host chap to look at them as well, don't you?"
Xander grinned slightly sheepishly. "Well, yes. We never had a chance to see Caritas when we were in LA before to pick up Oz's lightsabre gem. I think that we can kill two birds with one stone here, G-Man."
This gave Giles pause for thought. There was a great deal here to consider but the immediate implications were obvious. They knew that there was a storm coming, but they had no idea how far away it was – it might be tomorrow, a week or a year away. The more information they had the better. And on the other point, Buffy was looking a bit tired of late. A short break might do her the world of good. At least her mother was more understanding about her daughter's powers now. "I agree," he said slowly. "I'll have a word with Buffy and her mother. The Council will be able to fund you for hotels and so forth." Looking up at the Jedi he managed a small smile. "Do your best, Xander."
"We know a great deal about Mr Sullivan. We know that he had the motive for the murder. We know that he had the opportunity for the murder. And we know that he had the means to carry out the murder. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution's case will show that there is no possible doubt that Mr Sullivan carried out this terrible attack, just as there is no doubt that he planned it as well."
Lilah looked at the Assistant District Attorney as he droned on and on at the Jury. This guy was half-way competent. What a thrill. She could feel her pulse racing. Not. She stole a glance at her client. Sullivan was a large moron with a brain the size of a gerbil and a mean streak a mile wide. Unfortunately he was a moron with an extremely rich and much more intelligent and well-connected father who knew some people at Wolfram & Hart. Getting the guy off was going to be easy. All she had to do was coach him to grunt his lines, plant some seeds of doubt in the empty heads of the 12 people sitting to her right and then make sure that the only serious witness had a nasty accident, like accidentally committing suicide whilst combing his hair. Easy.
That wasn't the cause of her anger however. No, she was annoyed at Holland stinking Manners for giving her this cakewalk. It wasn't a major case, it was a joke. The Senior Partners weren't going to notice her for getting the moron in the suit next to her off from this murder rap.
She seethed behind her placid face. No, the Senior Partners were going to pat Manners' blue-eyed boy Lindsey McDonald for helping the Slayers blow up Wilkins. She sulked for a moment. An entire building blown up and almost no collateral damage. What a rotten result. If she'd been there she would have engineered some more explosives, enough to prevent the Slayers and their Watchers from escaping. That was the right way to get things done.
The ADA was still whittering on and she stifled a sigh. This was going to be a waste of a few days. Days that she could have spent studying the lightsabre. It… intrigued her. She had no idea what kind of person could have built it and, judging by the report that had been next to it, neither had Wolfit and his tame geek. A red lightsabre. A Sith lightsabre. She thought about what Lindsey would look like with the blade sticking out the middle of his forehead and bit back a smirk. Then she thought about what she could do to Manners with it and the stifled smirk became a small smile. Manners had given all the plums to McDonald and all the dross to her. If she saw him dying in the street she wouldn't bother spitting on him.
By now she was smouldering with anger again, not letting it show on her face. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair! She was a better lawyer than the tiny Texan. She deserved to be the up and coming person that the gossip columns would talk about. She was destined to get the top faster than the others. She'd done the work, the scheming, the schmoozing, the spying. She deserved it all! She…
Turning her head she looked at the ADA. His voice sounded off, hoarse, his eyes were wider and he kept fingering the collar of his shirt, as if it was too tight. He cleared his throat and kept speaking, only to stop after a strangled noise escaped his throat.
"Are you alright Mr Harkness?" asked the Judge, looking concerned.
Harkness nodded abruptly, his fingers working at the collar again, but his face was going red. Lilah looked at him with a dark glee. It looked like he was having a heart attack or something.
"Can't… breathe…" protested Harkness, loosening his tie frantically, as his team started to react around him, mostly with confusion and panic.
"Call an ambulance!" shouted the Judge, standing up by his chair as the ADA turned a really nasty shade of red and fell to his knees, hitting the desk as he did. There was a noise behind Lilah and she turned in time to see a paramedic burst through the doors at the back of the room and run up the aisle with a case marked with a red cross. As the woman ran past she caught Lilah with the tip of one shoulder, jolting her slightly and sending the papers she'd been studying flying all over the desk. Lilah glared sullenly and then started to pick up the scattered documents.
A great whoop of breath showed that Harkness had suddenly been able to breathe properly again and Lilah looked up, startled. The ADA was sitting on the floor, trembling and rubbing at his neck as the paramedic checked him out carefully. "I think I'm ok," he said shakily.
"Stay to be checked out please Mr Harkness," said the Judge, and then banged her gavel once. "Court is recessed temporarily."
As the crowd behind her stood and babbled Lilah stared at the ADA. How odd. It was just like that idiot back at the office. What the hell was going on?
If a bird had looked down as it soared over the cliffs next to the ocean it would have seen a long strip of tarmac that sinuously followed the coastline. And if it had look a bit harder it would have seen the moving dot that was the car as it drove north along the road. And if it had really paid attention then it would have seen the four occupants, one with blonde hair, two with red and finally the dark-haired driver.
But the bird was more interested in the fact that it was hungry and missed the whole thing.
Buffy rested her arms on the sides of the convertible and looked out at the ocean with half-closed eyes. It looked very blue and the sun was shining straight down on her face, making her feel all warm and tingly. She smiled slowly. Nothing to do but look at the scenery. Sweet. Nothing to stake for the time being, nothing to fight, nothing to do but relax for a bit. Giles, Wesley and Faith had the Hellmouth under control and now she was with her closest friends on a road trip in central California. It was going suspiciously smoothly, if she looked at it in a paranoid way, which was the best way to avoid nasty surprises in her life. She sighed again and closed her eyes fully, letting the warmth of the sun seep into her skin. This was nice.
She heard a brief 'eep!' from Willow, who was sitting directly behind her and then an 'oooh' of disappointment. "Another false alarm Wills? Giles did say that it was the wrong time of year to see them."
She could imagine the pout that was forming behind her. "Just another sea lion. Hey-ho. Not a whale."
"You really have the whale-fixation off to a 't', Wills. I never knew. What caused it?"
She heard a short laugh to her right. "Long story, Buffy," drawled Xander. "Short version? She heard a rumour that there was a whale on Sunnydale's beach when we were both eight. Our Wills got all excited and dragged me down there to discover… a whale-shaped balloon. Apparently it got free from a parade in LA and blew our way. Gave some fishermen a hell of a fright when they first saw it. And Willow's been looking for a real whale ever since."
"I've never seen one," mumbled Willow. "I didn't even get to see Free Willy because that was the year I got chickenpox. Stupid chickenpox."
"They're out there," said Oz. "Big ocean. You'll see one, honey."
"Yeah, listen to Oz, Wills," said Buffy sleepily. The motion of the car and the warmth was making her feel drowsy. "They're out there, singing whatever they sing."
"Sad songs," said the Wiccan. "I'll bet they're sad."
"Can you blame them?" said Xander. "I'll bet that… that…" The Jedi's voice trailed off and Buffy, suddenly fully awake, turned in her seat sharply to look at Xander, who was staring off out to sea.
"Damn," he muttered, snapping his attention back to the road. "Oz, can you feel that? We need a parking spot." As he spoke one appeared ahead and he slowed down and glided into it.
"Yes. What is it?" said Oz, who was also looking out to sea, shading his eyes with his hand.
"I don't know," said the Jedi as he got out of the car and walked over to the guardrail to stare out at the horizon. "I've never felt anything like it. It feels… wrong. Alien."
"Uh, guys? What's wigging you out?" Asked the Slayer as she felt up one sleeve for Mr Pointy and then looked around before hopping out of the car. Oz was out of the car as well by now and the four of them looked out. "Something in the sea?"
"Something in the air, Buffy. A long way away. Coming down fast."
"Metallic," muttered Oz and Xander nodded.
"Yeah. Not so much evil as… different. Metallic, you're right. A big signal in the Force, anyway. And alien as hell. Coming in from space." Then he paused and frown again. "Whoa, what was that?"
"Coming down too hard?" guessed his fellow Jedi.
"Coming down anyway. Down too fast, it's breaking up."
"I still don't see anything," whined Willow worriedly. "Are you guys sure about this? Where is it?"
Two arms shot out and pointed to the same area of the horizon. "It's a long way out Buffy. A few hundred miles at least. Big signal in the Force and… wow, it just exploded I think. It's gone." He blew out a breath and looked over at Oz, who raised an eyebrow. "That was freaky."
"What was it?" asked the Slayer.
"I have no idea, but whatever it was it's gone now. Must have hit the water and been destroyed. It was big though. And it was coming down on a clear trajectory, until it went all wobbly and crashed." He frowned and Buffy realised that he looked worried.
"You okay Xander? I mean you guys did sense this thing go kablooie. Is there a problem that needs slaying here?"
Pausing to go into what Buffy now called his 'Xander goes all still and force-ness' stance, the Jedi looked up. "No, I can't sense anything now. That was freaky." But he was still frowning as they all got into the car.
"Okay Xander, spill. Something's bugging you."
"I was just remembering what happened earlier this year when I met the Sith version of me. What he said. He was talking about starship designs. Of needing them. And he mentioned something called the Goa'uld. I'd put it to the back of my head, but I wonder if we should start to look into it. It must be important."
It was a small coffee shop that faced north, with a great view of the ocean and the headland to one side. Small tables and chairs stood outside, where a number of black-clothed people were drinking coffee in the shade of the two trees that framed the entrance. The people looked a lot like hung-over Goths, reflected Xander wryly. No wonder the pained looks.
But coffee was coffee and although neither he of Oz needed any, it was a different case with Buffy and Willow, both of whom looked as if they needed caffeine rather badly. They had spent the past two nights hunting down and killing a small but quite nasty group of assorted demons that were living in a set of caves close to Route One and preying off passing people who liked the view. Well, said demons were now in various pieces in a large hole in the ground that they had filled in.
Xander pushed the door open and held it for Buffy and the others as they filed in. Then he blinked. He was facing a mural on the opposite wall of a large group of Disney cartoon-like animals dancing around a fire. It was painted in primary colours that appeared to be burning holes in his retinas and looked implausibly tacky.
He wasn't the only the only person to be affected by it. Buffy blinked just as hard and took a step back, Willow had a fit of the giggles and Oz raised an entire eyebrow and said: "Whoa."
The bell of the door had tinkled in a rather Far Eastern way as they entered and now they heard a muffled thump as someone fiddled with the bowels of the coffee machine at the counter. Whoever it was, they were the only other person in the shop. They were also in a bad mood judging by the muffled swearing.
Xander and Oz sighed and looked at each other. "Better leave it to Buffy," said the taller Jedi. "We don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves here."
Buffy turned to look at them quizzically and was opening her mouth to ask the obvious question of what they were talking about when the person behind the counter straightened up, drying his hands on a cloth.
"Hey dudes, what can I get you cats?" asked the man that the Jedi could instantly tell was a vampire. Then he took a good look at Buffy and went as white as a sheet. "Oh man. Maximum uncool. Petal?"
His last word was directed at the back of the shop, where someone was moving around and complaining about the freshness of the salami. Then a female voice called out that she was coming, before a woman dressed in a long green skirt, a blue blouse and a shawl out of the 70's appeared. Another vampire. She smiled fondly at the first vampire, saw his expression, turned to look at the quartet in from of them and then fainted.
"Oh man…" quavered the male vampire again, "Um… hi?"
"Wow," said Buffy, "Fangfaces who know who I am and… Hold it. Don't I know you?"
"Um… yeah? You told us to leave town. We were skipping anyway, 'cause we saw him take down a pack of vampires." He stared at Xander like a very small snake seeing his first mongoose. "You're the Jedi guy from Sunnydale. We heard rumours about you. Um. Don't kill us? Please?"
Xander turned to stare at Buffy. "Whoa, hang on a second. You met them and didn't stake them? And why don't I feel anything really violent from these two?"
This caused much rolling of the eyes from Buffy. "Well, they were just so pathetic. They were moving out and loading up a van when I turned up and then they saw me and did, well, what they're doing now, although how a vampire can faint I don't know, as Giles said it's possible in their little fangy brains, and this one begged and I let them go after they promised not to come back." She looked at the Jedi. "They saw you cut through a gang of vamps, because they mentioned sheer terror and stuff." Then she looked a bit embarrassed. "Actually they thought that I was you at first."
Turning back, Xander eyed the vampire closely. He looked as if he was either about to faint or throw up. "Ok, you don't bite, right?"
"No way man, that's way uncool. Bad karma." The vampire shuddered violently and then looked uneasily at the lightsabre that was half-hidden behind Xander's tunic. "Balance of life, man. Slayer and Jedi against the forces of the night? That's balance. Um… are you going to use that? It's just that Petal has a carrot cake in the oven and if it's left on too long it gets real hot."
Blinking slightly, Xander repressed a grin. Then he thought about a few things. "What's the carrot cake made of?" He asked suspiciously.
"Carrots, usual stuff, man." The vampire seemed to be relaxing slightly and by the odd groans from behind him his wife was waking up.
"No blood? Guts? Brains? Recycled human material in anything in this shop?"
"No way man, have you seen the lawyers that work for the environmental protection people these days? Sharks, the lot of them."
Xander looked at the display of organic cakes and various coffees incredulously. "Ok," he said eventually, "I didn't see that one coming. You're saying that all this is on the level?"
The white-faced vampire nodded vigorously. Then he caught sight of the lightsabre that Oz was holding up his sleeve and he brightened. "Oh, wow, Petal – there's another Jedi here! Maximum coolness! Yeah, Skywalkers all over California! George Lucas eat your heart out!" He caught the look on their faces and recoiled abruptly, muttering "Oh man, we're gonna get dusted," over and over under his breath in a kind of mantra.
Pulling out Mr Pointy, Buffy leant over a carrot cake in the middle of the display and prodded it suspiciously before sniffing it. "Smells ok. Very yummy as well, which is wiggy." She turned to face the female vampire, who was staggering to her feet. She was whiter than her husband. "What's in it?" barked the Slayer at the vampire, who swayed like a tree that can see a hurricane coming.
"Um… flour? Carrot? Egg?" she said faintly.
"Anything else?" asked Buffy, twirling the stake between her fingers so fast that it blurred. The female vampire – Petal, wasn't it? – scurried up to her husband and clutched at his arm. He patted her in a well meaning but distracted manner. Both watched the spinning stake as if they were hypnotised by it.
"Ummm…. Sugar? Cinnamon? Nutmeg?" squeaked Petal.
"Blood? Intestines? Icky gloopy things from inside people?"
Petal pulled a face. "No way! A lot of our customers are vegetarians and you can't put that kind of stuff in because…" she ground to a halt as Oz stepped forwards. "Nope."
The former werewolf reached over, broke off a small piece of carrot cake, sniffed it intently and then popped it in his mouth. "Interesting," he said after a crumb-filled moment. "Good. Allspice?"
The vampires nodded. Oz turned to the others. "It's clean. How much for a slice?"
"Fifty cents?" came the disbelieving response.
Oz reached into his pocket and pulled out two quarters. "They're harmless. Let's eat."
As they sat there, eating cake in the café that seemed to be run by two hippy vampires, Xander paused for a moment. Appearances could be very deceptive at times. And he realised something two other things. Firstly that he really had to get Giles and, yes, Wesley, looking into some of the potential threats on the horizon. The earlier incident with the alien thing in the sky was troubling him a great deal now. And the other thing was that he needed to ramp up his training. So far he had mastered Form I of lightsabre technique, also known as Shii-Cho, and he had also made some progress in catching up to Obi-Wan's memories in his use of Form III, Soresu. He also had the basics of Form VII, or Vapaad, which he'd used against the Sith version of himself. But if tyhere was a Sith out there – or coming – he needed to hone his skills. And train Oz even harder.
As he looked out of the window he could feel something in the air. There was a storm coming. Far or near, he could just sense it. There was work to be done.
Jack O'Neil drew up in his parking space whistling cheerfully, popped the car in park mode and got out, still whistling, only to stop and raise his eyebrows in surprise. Daniel Jackson had a new car. It was… different.
"Hey Spacemonkey, didn't anyone ever tell you to buy American? What happened to the Chevy?"
Daniel started slightly from where he had been frowning at the car next to his new landrover and then smiled. "Long story."
"Cliff notes version?"
"Engine blew up."
"Oookay, I'll bite: why?"
"Well, according to the mechanic it was, quote, a piece of crap from Detroit, unquote. So I got a new one."
Jack looked at it consideringly and then raised his eyebrows. "I never saw you as a 4by4 kinda guy."
"I'm not, I'm just more used to driving Landrovers. I've driven them in nearly every dig I've been on, and they've never broken down, let alone, exploded. Jack…"
"What's the mileage on it? Holy crap, how many gear levers has this thing got? You know, Danny, if you'd asked me, which, I'm hurt to say, not to mention slightly miffed, you didn't…"
"Jack…"
"Yes, pro-British Spacemonkey?"
"Have you noticed something about Sam's car?"
He turned and looked at it. Nope, still dark blue, still American damn it, still got the little planet thing hanging from the rearview mirror.
"Nope. Why?"
"It's in the same position it was in on Friday, that's why."
Jack peered at it. "It is not! Besides how can you tell?"
"Um, because I'm an archaeologist, and I'm trained to notice stuff?"
"You didn't notice that your engine was about to blow up?"
This earned him a glare. "This is different."
"Why?"
"It just is. I think that Sam's pulled another all-weekender."
"Oh come on Daniel, no way. Not after I chewed her out over doing that last month. And the month before that. And not after we spent part of last week in orbit, blowing replicator bugs to hell on Thor's ship."
A grin stole over Daniel's face. "Bet you she has?"
"How much?"
"Ten dollars."
"Done. But tonight, when I'm at home drinking the beer that I bought with your money, I will think of your ability to bet on really stupid things."
Daniel snorted at that, before grabbing his bag of rocks or whatever he had with him, and heading off to the main entrance.
Having gone through the usual rigamarole of signing in and security checks and having gotten into their usual fatigues, the pair were wandering down the corridor towards Carter's lab when a large figure hove into view.
"Hey T, how was your flying trip to Chulak?"
The former Jaffa inclined his head and smiled. "It was most agreeable. Master Bra'tac sends his greetings."
"How is the old guy?"
"He is well. He wishes to know when you will take up his offer of a demonstration of Tauri hand to hand fighting skills."
"Well," said Jack, deadpan, "I guess that's going to depend on General Hammond. Seen Carter at all this morning?"
"No. I returned only a few hours ago. Why do you seek her?"
Jack traded glances with Spacemonkey. "Oh, just something we need to check."
The Jaffa raised an eyebrow. "O'Neill, have you and Daniel Jackson made another wager?"
"No! Well… maybe. Daniel says that her car's in the same position as on Friday night, so we're trying to find out if Carter pulled another weekender again."
The other eyebrow went up. "Has she not been told that she must cease that practice by Dr Frasier?"
"Yes, and by me, and Hammond, and the freaking world for all I know, but you know Carter. Put a doohickey in front of her and she reacts like it's the only thing in the world. But I'm sure that she didn't, I mean with so many warnings she… ah. Here we are."
He put out his hand and knocked on the door. Nothing. "See? She's not in. Probably in the canteen eating her fruit loops and thinking technical stuff."
Daniel looked dubious. "Jack, there's a light on in there." He reached forwards and opened the door.
They looked in. Then Jack sighed and pulled a ten buck note out of a pocket and handed it over to Daniel, who was looking too goddamn smug for his own good.
"O'Neill, how much have you lost to Daniel Jackson by now?"
"Sixty-five dollars and fifty-one cents," said Daniel, now sounding smug as well.
Teal'c looked as if he was about to say something, but the baleful look in Jack's eye obviously warned him that this was a touchy subject.
"Ohfercryingoutloud, c'mon." Jack walked into the lab, which looked as it had been hit by a snowstorm of paper. In the middle was a large desk, with a small round device seated on a set of blueprints. Wires were hanging from the device, which was also surrounded by tools, and slumped over on a stool, her head on her arms on the desk, was the sleeping form of Major Samantha Carter.
"Sam?" said Daniel gently. Then louder, "Sam?"
"Carter!" said Jack loudly, causing the blonde major to wake with a start and a muttered comment about putting the garbage out in a minute, dad.
She blinked muzzily at them all. "Sir? What are you doing here at this time of night?"
"Morning, Major, morning not night. 0751, to be precise," he said chidingly, jabbing a finger at his watch for emphasis.
"That can't be sir, it's…" she caught sight of her own watch and ground to a halt. "Oops."
"Oops indeed. You been here all weekend? And remember that I can have the records checked…"
She looked abashed. "Yes sir. Sorry. But-"
"No buts! Want me to inflict ol' Doc Frasier on you? Again?"
"No, sir but-"
"Ah! I am irked, Carter. Irked."
She blinked at him tiredly and then noticed the $10 bill in Daniel's hand. A small smirk crept over her face. "You had money on me not being here?"
"As a matter of fact, yes Carter. Hence the irkedness." He sighed and shook his head. "It's a good thing we don't have a mission today, Major. Nothing pisses me off more then fighting the snakes with a sleeping team member. Get some sleep today and I won't tell Dr Dread and her collections of needles and glares."
"Yes sir," she said, still looking abashed, "Thank you sir."
He waved a vague hand at the mess in her office. "Now would you mind telling us what kind of doohickey got you to risk the displeasure of your superior officer and lose me $10?"
It was like flipping a switch. Her eyes lit up and she just oozed enthusiasm. "It's this sir," she said, pointing at the silver object. "It's amazing! The possibilities are astonishing! It's-"
"A doohickey. Carter, what is it?"
"It's an energy cell sir. And from the design specs it's a very powerful one. If I can get it to work, that is."
"Meaning that it doesn't work now. Okay, I can see the weekend vanishing part. But why get all excited about a battery?"
She gave him a look that combined exasperation and amusement. "It's far more than a battery sir. As you know, we've been looking for a portable power unit to power some of the experimental energy weapons that we've been designing for some time now, but they've always proved to be inadequate, good for no more than five of six shots at the most."
"I remember," said Jack. "And the backpack it came with weighed a goddamn ton." He looked at the cell again. "This is different I take it? It's a bit… small."
"Yes sir," giving him the big smile and enthusiastic look again. "But it's got the potential to power a staff weapon for years!"
"That would make it a significant find, Major Carter," said Teal'C.
"If it worked…" pointed out Daniel and perky Carter became tired Carter in an instant. She stared down at it and gave a helpless shrug before yawning.
"I've assembled it correctly, but it won't keep a charge. There's nothing wrong with the capacitors or anything else. I've tried everything and it just sits there." She shook her head again and then opened her mouth for another even larger yawn.
Jack looked sharply at her. "Stay awake Carter." Then something occurred to him. "If this thing's so advanced where did we get it from?"
Carter blinked muzzily at him. "Colonel Tsongas at the patent office in Washington flagged it up for us. It came in from California a few months back but this is the first time anyone has been able to see it, let alone build it."
A warning bell went off at the back of Jack's brain. "This was invented by a company in California?"
"No, sir, by a…" she sorted through the papers and finally found the one she was looking for. "Alexander Harris. No company name."
"Nuts," he muttered. "Someone in California just happens to invent a power cell that's more advanced than anything else we have? That doesn't sound right."
Carter blinked. "I know what you're thinking sir, but no. The design is advanced, but it's not Goa'uld sir. I checked that first of all."
"Indeed it is not," rumbled Teal'c. "It bears no resemblance to any Goa'uld device that I have ever seen."
Daniel cleared his throat meaningfully. "Besides Jack, have you ever heard of a Goa'uld patenting an invention?"
This is was a good point and Jack nodded thoughtfully. Picking the doohickey up he inspected it carefully. Looked like a standard earth doohickey, but there was something about it that tugged at the back of his mind. "Well, Major, leave it be for five minutes and come with us to get some breakfast. You…" He stopped when he noticed that Carter had fallen asleep again and was slowly bending forwards over the desk. Very gently he grabbed her shoulder to stop her head hitting the surface and looked at the others, who were watching with some concern.
"Danny, pull that blanket off her cot," he whispered, "While I put her to bed." As Daniel bustled and Teal'c gently pulled the papers out of her hand, Jack carefully put one arm around her back and another under her knees and slowly carried her over to her cot, which was showing little sign of having been slept in. Putting her down he draped the blanket over her, shook his head fondly and led the others out, pausing to pick up the blueprints and the doohickey.
Once the door had been shut and they had passed further down the corridor Daniel finally opened his twitching mouth. "Sam spent the weekend trying to make it work, Jack, so what makes you think that you can do what she can't?"
"How difficult can it be?" he asked. Seeing the expressions on their faces he shrugged. "Okay, forget I said that. But I can read a blueprint and provide the O'Neill touch."
