FIC: Cleveland Calling (6?)
"Yes!" Faith whooped as the Rock hit the Crippler with a Rock-Bottom. "One! Two! Three!" Faith punched the air as she dropped her X-Box control and sneered at Dana. "You suck! I rule!"
"You cheated," Connor protested from his seat behind them on the couch.
"How do you work that out?" Faith shot back. "I beat her fair and square."
"You disconnected her control when you reached for some popcorn."
Faith opened and closed her mouth several times before mounting out a feeble defence. "Damn, Conn," she stuttered. "Sticking up for your girl-friend?"
Connor reddened but wasn't thrown. "Don't dodge the issue, you cheated."
"Fine," she rolled her eyes as she passed a scowling Dana five bucks. "You win."
Faith was relieved to hear the sound of someone knocking on the door. "I'll get that," she hurriedly rose and rushed to the door. "Hey-," her voice trailed off as she opened the door. After a second, she regained her voice. "Kate."
The blonde cop stared at her, her disdainful expression the look every cop got when looking at an ex-crim. "Faith," there was a pause and then the cop stepped into the hallway. Which was wicked lucky, 'cause she'd never invite her in. Not that she was worried about the cop being a vamp; the sun would have fried her to a crisp. She just hated the bitch for putting her away. "Is Xander in?"
After a second, she nodded. "Yeah, he's in his office." The police officer nodded before striding past her. "You're welcome," she called out sarcastically. She sighed as she saw Dana scowling at her from the lounge doorway. "It was just a game," she tried. The Slayer's only answer was slamming the door in her face. "Oh come on kid," Faith sighed.
"And Andrew wants some more money for groceries."
Xander groaned as Amy continued her report. "What for this time?"
"Connor, he says the boy eats like a horse at a pie-eating contest."
Xander rubbed at his forehead, the beginnings of a headache thudding at him. When he'd agreed to become a Watcher, he'd figured he'd have to learn demonic languages, plan strategies, and supervise training with the Slayers. What he didn't think about was house-keeping. "Fine, put another 10 on the bud-." He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's Kate."
"Come in."
The blonde cop strode in. After a nod to Amy, the cop turned to him. The police officer threw a business card onto his desk. "We've got a problem."
Xander stared at the cop for a second before lifting up the card. His heart skipped a beat when he picked the card up and read it. "Wolfram and Hart, here?"
"We gotta go face them down X!" Faith paced the briefing room floor. "Tell those fuckers whose town this is!"
Xander idly wondered if the beautiful Bostonian would ever learn patience. Deciding the answer was probably no, he spoke. "How about we calm down and think about this?"
"Calm down!" Faith started towards the door, her face taut. "Fuck that! I'm-."
"Sit down!" Xander thundered, hoping his voice sounded enough like Giles to have an effect. He was surprised and a little gratified when the Boston Slayer's eyes widened and she slunk, scowling, back to her seat. Maybe he'd try that tone more often. Or considering how much he liked his limbs, maybe he'd better off not pushing his luck. "I'm waiting for a call from Giles about last night." He stared meaningfully at the Slayer. "You remember last night, don't you?"
"Someone can take a message can't they?" Faith countered. "After all, they asked for you by name. We've gotta go, otherwise they'll think you're a chicken-shit. We gotta go!"
"Like Skywalker entering the Death Star to face his destenity."
Xander felt his headache increase at Andrew's sagely-offered comment. Why him? Why did he end up with every misfit the Council could scrounge up? The unpalatable answer that came to mind was that Giles figured one misfit Watcher could relate to the other misfits. "I didn't say we wouldn't go," he hadn't backed down from a fight since he'd left home, "just that we wait until after Giles had rung back."
"Screw, G!" Angel's disappearance had hardened Faith's feelings about his father-figure. "We've got an answering machine, right?"
"Faith," Xander silently counted to ten. "Fine, we'll go. Just me, you, and Conn-," his voice trailed off as an idea occurred. "Kate are you available?"
"Whoa, Xander," the blonde shook her head. "I can't come with you. I shouldn't be even listening to this conversation."
"No," Xander chuckled nervously. "I was thinking you could stay here, help Andrew supervise the Slayers while we're gone. And no," he looked towards Dana, "you're not coming."
After a second the cop nodded. "I can do that."
"Great," Xander turned to Amy. "Will you come with us?" Amy nodded. "Excellent, now no weapons. We don't want to give them a reason to call the police."
Connor nodded. "You smoking something?" Faith's eyes widened. "No way am I going in there without a weapon!"
Xander decided not to point out the blindly obvious that Faith was a lethal weapon on her own. Instead he turned from the senior Slayer to two of her juniors. "Breena, you and Penda are coming, Faith's staying here-."
"Fine, fine," Faith raised her hands in surrender. "No weapons."
Xander stared at the Slayer for a second before nodding. "Right, then let's go."
Breena grabbed Dana as the meeting broke up. "I was wondering what do you think of Xander and Faith getting together?" Before the other Slayer could reply, she continued. "He's kind and honest, she needs someone like that someone who she can rely on. And he needs someone to love," she sighed. "They'd be perfect."
"Can't trust guys," Dana muttered.
"What about you and Connor?"
Dana blushed. "Just friends," she grunted.
Breena grinned. "Sure you are."
"And furthermore, you can tell the pissing' Prime Minister, I will not do any photo opportunities with him!" Giles roared down the phone. "Does the buffoon have no understanding of the word 'secret'? And no, I will not -."
"Mr. Giles!" the door to his office burst open, one of his research assistants charged in, a worried expression on his face. "I have news about the vampire, Miss Leh-," the man's face paled when he realised Giles was on the phone. "Sorry, sir. I'll come back."
"Nonsense." Shaking his head, he hung up. "It was just an idiot in search of a village. Now, what have you got for me?" Five minutes later the man had finished. "Is that it?" the research Watcher nodded. Giles sighed, his heart heavy, this was not good, not good at all. "Thank you, Greaves, most prompt. Now, if you don't mind," he reached for the phone, "I have to make a call."
"Yes sir," the Watcher bowed slightly, some of them took deference and his rank rather too seriously, before leaving.
Giles stared down at the information before him before finally dialling the number of Xander's operation. After eight rings, he heard a voice. "Hello, Andrew Wells speaking?"
Giles rolled his eyes. Bloody marvellous, he'd managed to get the Council in-bred. "Hello Andrew," he forced himself to patient civility, reminding himself it had been a bloody masterstroke to push the little pillock into Xander's group. All very unfair of course, but one of the perks of leadership. And far more satisfying than his Bentley. "Is Xander about?"
"Ah, Mr. Giles!" his ears pounded at the strange young man's shriek. "Always a pleasure to hear from our esteemed leader! I'm afraid the Hellmouth Watcher is currently out on an intrepid trip deep into the belly of the beast, accompanied only by the beautiful Faith, the mysterious Connor, and the powerful Amy. Can I take a message?"
Giles blinked, thrown by the conversation sudden turn. "Uh, no," he replied slowly. "Could you tell him to call me when he gets back?"
"Yes sir!" Giles could almost see the idiot saluting. "As soon as he gets in sir."
"Thank you, Andrew." Giles hung up then cursed. In his eagerness to get rid of the fool he'd forgotten to ask him where exactly Xander had gone. He comforted himself with the thought that he'd find out when Xander rang back later. Giles chuckled. "Knowing Andrew's love of theatrics, they've probably gone to the mall."
Xander whistled as he entered the vast, open-plan lobby, impressed by all the gleaming chrome walls, new age artwork decorating the floor space, and beautifully designed furniture. "Ow!" he rubbed the back of his head where Faith had slapped him before turning and glaring at the east coast Slayer. "What was that for?" he hissed.
"We're not fucking tourists!" the Slayer snarled back at him.
Xander winced. "Oh yeah, forgot." He strode up to the gleaming counter and smiled at the beautiful blonde receptionist, ignoring Faith's growl, it never hurt to be polite. Especially to a hottie like the office worker. "Hey, I have an open invitation to see," he paused to look at the business card, "Solomon Emory."
"I'm sorry," Xander's interest in the receptionist cooled when she shot him a smile that had all the warmth of a cobra's. "But Mr. Emory is in meetings all -," the office worker was interrupted by the phone ringing. "I'm sorry, I have to take this." Even as he opened his mouth to speak, the receptionist answered the phone. The blonde's eyes flickered to him, widening slightly. "Yes sir, of course sir." The woman hung up the phone. "The executive lift is that way, sir." The receptionist twisted her pleasingly curved torso and pointed over her left shoulder. "Mr. Emory will be awaiting you and your companions."
"Thank you." Xander nodded at the blonde before moving towards the elevator..
"Thank you," Faith mimicked sarcastically. "Jeez, ask for her number while you're at it. Or just bend her over her desk."
Xander sighed, he had been thinking of asking for the office worker's number on the way out, but given Faith's attitude maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do. "Just because they're evil doesn't mean we can't be polite," he patiently replied as they entered the glass elevator. Faith's eyes widened at his comment, the Bostonian's mouth opened and closed, before she shook her head.
The elevator ride passed in a strained silence. Eventually the elevator stopped at the sixteenth floor, its glass portal sliding open. They stepped out onto a featureless corridor, it walls a bland yellow, and the thick carpet beneath their feet a soft red. Three security guards, each the size of a security truck, stood opposite them. "We're going to have check you for weapons," one of the guards said, licking his lips as his gaze flitted from Amy to Faith.
"Fuck that -."
Faith's voice trailed off when he raised his hand, his eyes fixed on the lead guard. "I wouldn't if I was you."
The guard's eyes didn't shift from Faith. "Rules are rules."
Xander shrugged. He'd tried. "Faith. Connor. Reason won't work."
"'Bout time!" Suddenly Faith was past him. Xander winced as the brunette beauty's legs shot out, catching the man between his legs. The man's eyes crossed as he doubled up, his face descending straight into Faith's leather-clad knee, his nose disappearing in a visceral spray.
Even as the man plummeted to the ground, Faith was moving past him, grabbing hold of one of his companions around his bull-neck and flinging him face first into the wall. The man groaned and began to turn towards the Slayer, only to catch an elbow to the lower back that sent him back to his knees. A backfist to the back of the head and he was out cold.
Xander shook his head. It was always a little frightening to see Faith bounce around a muscle-bound giant twice his size, reminding him just how near he'd come to death at her hands five years ago. Shaking himself, he glanced at Connor. Seeing the weedy-looking youth stood over the third of the gorilla gang, he forced a smile. "I think we're late for our meeting," he nodded towards the door at the far end of the corridor. "Shall we?"
"Of course," Amy agreed. "It would be rude to keep our host waiting."
"Rude?" he heard Faith mutter. "Fucking Sunnydalers! They're all nuts."
Solomon Emery looked up from his reading as his door crashed open and an exceedingly angry looking brunette strode in. He smiled in appreciation of the young woman's beauty, savouring her looks like a wine connoisseur would appreciate a fine vintage. The young woman appeared less than impressed with his approval, her face mottling with rage. "What the fuck ya looking at?" she challenged. "This ain't some skin show ya know!"
"Faith," his gaze switched to the one-eyed man, his smile widened. Oh, he liked him, the sort who always doubted themselves, but would never give up, would always continue believing. He was like something out of a Raymond Chandler novel, someone who would keep on doing the right thing, the noble thing, no matter how corrupt the world was around him. "Calm down. Those thugs were just to get us off balance, the confrontation with Kate. It was all staged to see how we'd react."
Emory's smile widened still further. Oh excellent, the youth might not be academically bright, but he could read people. "Please," he nodded towards the seats, "sit down."
"I don't like people playing games with me," warned the second man, a youth in his late teens. Connor, Angel's son, another intriguing case.
"Yes, I'm well aware of that." Emory reassured the youth. "Please sit." After a second the youths obeyed him. He thought about offering refreshments, but realised that they'd only suspiciously refuse. Such a shame, he believed in being polite. "Mr. Harris," he greeted. "Such a pleasure to meet you." He tapped the youth's hefty file. ""Alexander Harris - quite the group you've got there. The previously Evil Slayer, who helped to set an Ascension in motion and at one point actually worked for our firm; an ex-evil witch who corrupted your best friend; another Slayer, this time one with a very flimsy grasp on reality; and of course Mr Wells, who've you've left minding the shop, who's choice of heroic figures that he's admired include Warren Meers, who actually shot another of your friends, and Spike, who's probably got one of the largest body counts of the last century. What exactly did you do to get given this particular cast as a team...? Were you a naughty little Watcher, or does Mr Giles just think that you'd recognise evil if it occurred in any of them again, and be willing to take the necessary steps..? There appears to be very little on your own record to indicate any real tendencies to evil - in fact, your own experiences in that direction seem to stem from your own stupidity - walking into a Hyena house, conjuring a singing demon... why do you think Giles has set you up as their... parole officer, as it were..?" he raised an eyebrow at the shocked look on the two women's faces. Clearly Harris was a young man who liked to downplay or even hide his accomplishments. "You're quite a legend in our world. I don't suppose you'd consider switching to our operation?"
"No," Harris' one word answer was flat, his eyes stony.
"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "A shame, a man of your resourcefulness could be either a good friend or a formidable enemy. Unless," he turned his gaze onto the gorgeous Slayer. "Miss Lehane, please snap his neck."
He noted both the Slayer's momentary shock and the Watcher's slight flinch. Clearly their shared past weighed heavy. Interesting. "Like hell!" the Slayer snarled, half-rising out of her seat before forcing herself to sit back down. "How about I snap yours instead?"
"That would be," he paused for a second. "Inconvenient. However, might I ask why not?" Seeing the Slayer's cupid-shaped mouth open in a probably sulphurous reply, he hurried on. "After all, you did take a contract off us before." The Slayer paled at the memory. "One that you didn't fulfil. So, technically we're down $ 15,000. Fortunately, my law firm doesn't hold grudges. Simply kill Mr. Harris and we'll wipe out your debt, plus another $ 85,000. After all," he smiled again. "It's not like you've not tried to kill him before."
The beautiful brunette shot the pale-faced Harris a haunted look before turning back to him. "Go fuck yourself," she growled.
"I have a young lady who takes care of that for me, thank you." He paused. "Although I'd be willing to add some more money to my offer if you'd be interested." He glanced at the brunette's file. "After all, it would be far from the first time."
"You piece of shit!" The Slayer began to rise only to stop at the Watcher's voice.
"So that's the idea of this meeting is it? To show us how much you know about us in your wonderful files. I'm impressed. Your intelligence men do good work, we've got the message, how big and powerful you are." The Watcher stood. "Well here's my message. Coming here was a big mistake. One of my people gets hurt because of you and I'll come for you. And all your fancy lawyers won't be able to help." The Californian turned and looked at his companions. "Come on. This meeting is over."
Emory smiled at the youth's words. Yes, formidable indeed. Once the Council representatives had left, he picked up his phone noting his slightly sweaty palm. Yes, very formidable.
Gathering himself, he dialled 'Propehcies'. "Yes, hello Mr. Emory here. Could you send 'The Poems Of Sabola' up, please? Which one? The one referring to the White Knight and the Dark Slayer. Yes, thank you." After momentarily replacing the phone, he picked it up again, and dialled 'Operations'. "Yes, hello, Emory here. I'd like to order a review of our security arrangements, including our main base, satellite operations, and senior staff protection. Thank you." Hanging up, he leaned back thoughtfully in the chair. One could never be too careful, Mr. Harris had an unfortunate habit of accomplishing things that were logically beyond him. And he did so value his own neck.
An hour later he'd read the dusty tome the clerical worker had brought up six times, but unfortunately was none the wiser. Records clearly indicated that Angelus had referred to Harris as the White Knight, so chances were he was the one in the prophecy. The Dark Slayer and the White Knight would fight with The Wolf, Ram, & Hart at the end of days. But did that mean with them, or against them?
And who was the 'Reborn One' referred to?
