Chapter Five

Jaime and Steve returned to the gate just before sunset. Buffy's mini-lesson on killing vampires, and then actually meeting one had strengthened Jaime's resolve, instead of spooking her. She had almost managed to make a believer out of Steve, and was able to convince him that they should wait a little longer before calling Oscar with an update.

They were both professional enough to concentrate on the task at hand, whatever it entailed, but until it was time to begin, their only focus was on each other. As Jaime leaned into him, one arm around his waist, Steve gently enfolded her in a tender embrace, gazing into hazel eyes that seemed, for the first time in years, to be reflecting the same feelings he had in his heart. Jaime could feel something happening, too, and willingly surrendered to feelings that, although new, felt comfortingly familiar. Neither of them spoke; they didn't need to. The first kiss was very light and tentative but rapidly grew more intense as a five-year-old spark burst into a roaring flame.

Half an hour later, they reluctantly pulled apart as Buffy bounced up to them from inside the cemetery. "Hi, guys! Word around here is that there's a whole lot of extra activity, vamp-wise, tonight. So stay on your toes and stick close to me."

"The killer took two victims last night," Jaime said. "He's stepping up his pace, and I have a gut feeling he's out again tonight."

"So you stick close to us," Steve told Buffy.

"Yeah. Whatever."

On their second trip around the graveyard's perimeter, they saw Angel sitting on the roof of his mausoleum, just...watching them. He nodded at the three of them, and when they were almost past him, his head turned quickly and, in a very quiet, calm voice, he said "Behind you, Buffy."

Buffy didn't need to turn around and look; she understood. She pulled a stake from her sleeve, angled it backwards and drove it straight into the vampire. Steve and Jaime were left speechless as they watched the vamp literally disintegrate before their eyes, turning into a harmless cloud of dust. Buffy grinned triumphantly. "Now do you believe me?"

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One hour and three more minor vamps later, the trio stopped to check in with Angel. "Have you heard anything yet?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing. If he's one of ours, he's an outcast - a lone wolf, so to speak. No one knows anything that they're willing to share."

"Maybe they're covering for one of their own?" Steve theorized.

"Not likely. Like I said before, we don't need the bad publicity."

"How do we know which one is the killer, and which ones aren't?" Jaime asked.

"It'll feel completely different. Trust me - you'll know."

"If you think about it," Jaime began, "the killer probably isn't going to jump out and attack a group of three. We'll never see him if we stay together like this. Why don't we try splitting up for awhile?"

"No way," Steve told her, his arm once again tightening protectively around her.

They began another circle around the perimeter, and when they were in the darkest corner, Jaime felt something yank hard on her arm, pulling her backwards. "Steve, Buffy!" She could defend herself, but didn't want them leaving her behind. Buffy started to leap to her aid, and so did Steve, but Jaime drew her right arm forward and, with all of her strength, elbowed the minor vampire and sent him flying backwards through the air. At the same time, Jaime took a bionic leap forward, so when she and the vamp landed, they were nearly on opposite sides of the cemetery.

It was Buffy's turn to stand in stunned silence. "Oh. My. God," she whispered. She looked at Steve with saucers for eyes. "Is she...a slayer?"

"Hardly."

"How did she do that -?"

"How did she do what?" Steve said. "I didn't see anything, and neither did you. Let's go find her." They'd walked to the area where Jaime had landed, but she was no longer there. "What the -"

Jaime, meanwhile, had been pulled back into the dark corner she'd started in. The air around her seemed to crackle with evil as a strong, rough hand firmly covered her mouth. This one was much more powerful, and she was unable to break away. Jaime felt his hot, hungry breath on her neck as he leaned in to whisper: "Hello, Number Eleven."

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