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The Back Room of the Summers Art Gallery
Joyce's POV
There! Ready for use, she thought as she finished cleaning her Remington 700 rifle.
She'd gotten home from shooting a few rounds at the local shooting range an hour ago and, just like the shop keeper she'd bought the rifle from had advised, she hadn't wasted time before cleaning it. Every time you used a gun it got 'dirty', for want of a better word, and if you left it by itself the dirt built up while it also became harder to clean. As a result she hadn't missed a single cleaning the entire time she'd owned it.
As for her ability to use it, she could consistently hit the target at the other end of the shooting range.
Still, she was far from being able to hit the exact center of the circle every single time so it'd be a while before she'd consider herself ready for the real thing.
What would the real thing be? Why, helping her daughter in order to make sure she made it home in one piece every night, of course. As much as she wanted to keep Buffy from harm, she knew that as long as they lived in Sunnydale that wouldn't be an option. They were living in a hot zone of demonic activity and, even if she convinced her eldest daughter to stop being the Slayer, it wouldn't last. Buffy wasn't so heartless that she'd be able to willfully remain blind and deaf as people suffered or died around her. It'd only be a question of time before the deaths and the misery made it impossible not to take action to put a stop to it.
So if stopping Buffy from getting into danger altogether was not an option, then the only other choice was to do all she could to up the odds of her eldest coming home alive.
Given what she'd inherited from Halloween, it'd only made sense to work towards becoming a reliable sharpshooter. However, since she had no trouble accepting that she was no spring chicken, she was focusing on being a sniper in order to keep danger at a safe distance. She hadn't ENTIRELY been lying when she'd teased Dawn about her approaching Xander for some instruction in close quarters combat. The whole point of being a sniper was to keep your targets from knowing where you were and aiming for one shot, one kill throughout the entire mission. However the possibility existed that a sniper's position could be found and, if they could not be shot dead from a distance, flushing them out of their nest was a viable tactic. This could be done by making it hazardous for the sniper to remain there via indefinite bombardment or by successfully getting troops up to the shooter.
In the case of bombardment, anyone with common sense would know to get the hell out of their nest the second they recognized that it was about to become rubble.
It was in the case of the latter where being able to fight up close with a certain level of skill became a necessity.
Still, until she got her sharpshooting skills up to a respectable level, she'd hold off on unarmed combat training.
Whether she'd ask Xander for help when the time came… she had to admit there was a certain level of amusement to be had in causing her daughters to freak out at whatever their imaginations came up with.
Another bit of preparation she'd been doing was 'treating' every bullet she'd purchased so that it'd achieve maximum effectiveness when they hit their target. Given that Buffy had said her job title was 'vampire slayer', she'd used some tools she'd gotten to inscribe crosses on every round and found a way to put silver from blessed crosses into the grooves. To top it all off, she also soaked the bullets in holy water from the local church for as long as she dared without letting the possibility of rust and corrosion set in. In her opinion when you added all three things together you had bullets that, even if they didn't kill vampires with one shot, they'd hurt like a sonuvabitch. They'd also be a bitch to pull out assuming the bloodsucker didn't have a set of tweezers or pliers handy.
Would they work? She wasn't sure. Silver was soft and the barrel was rifled; it was entirely possible that the rifling would tear the silver out, throwing off the ballistics of the round.
She intended to make sure that she had a stockpile of at least a hundred rounds at any given time so that, if necessary, she could take on an army of vampires. At the moment, though, she could safely say that she had twenty rounds ready for use, with another thirty in the middle of receiving their special treatments. She also hoped to be able to test them out before anything REALLY needed to be done.
Hearing the phone ring, she set aside the Remington before reaching for and picking up the receiver and putting it to her ear.
"Summers Gallery, Joyce Summers speaking," she said, like she did for every call she answered at the gallery.
"Missus Summers, I regret to inform you that your daughter skipped her afternoon classes," spoke a voice filled with bitterness and anger. "This is unacceptable behavior. I suggest you get her straightened out or I will have to take steps of my own."
"Of course, Principal Snyder. I'll make sure Buffy understands this the next time I see her," she said politely after recognizing the voice of the troll that ran Sunnydale High School. "After all, nothing is more important for a growing young lady than her education. Goodbye."
Without waiting for more of the man's bile she hung up the phone and then took it off the hook to prevent any follow up calls. She'd learned of the troll named Snyder that first parent teacher night after the man had been named Principal Flutie's replacement and she had to wonder if he'd even been interviewed before being given the job. The man thought that all students were criminals in the making, or destined for spirit crushing minimum wage jobs for crying out loud! Principals were supposed to be mentors, nurturers, who helped the students under their charge to reach their potential while also punishing bad behavior.
The fact that the moron had it in for her daughter certainly didn't help either.
Still, if she's not at school, then where is she? she thought before reaching into her purse before taking out a device the size of a TV remote.
One of the first things that she'd done with her Halloween inheritance was use Lady Deadshot's knowledge to construct crude but effective tracking devices, as well as a device to find them. It'd take some work to make one small yet powerful enough for her purposes and then plant them in things Buffy or Dawn weren't likely to stray far from. She'd had to make a few trips to the local electronics store and go through several trial runs but eventually she'd managed to create something that met her needs.
Switching on the device in her hand, the screen lit up before giving her a direction and estimating distance based on the strength of the signal coming from the tracking device. Moving it in various directions, she could see that Dawn was still at home but, when she looked for where Buffy was, she found her nowhere near her usual haunts. Indeed, based on her rough understanding of Sunnydale's layout, her eldest was in the industrial area of the town. That area housed the factories, the warehouses and the industrial business offices.
Why was she there?
The answer came quickly.
Slayer business. Something that required the presence of a Slayer was going on in that part of Sunnydale AND was urgent enough to get Buffy to skip her afternoon classes. However, since her eldest had missed those classes, it meant that the problem wasn't something easily overcome since, according to her inheritance, an operative being late to return usually meant trouble had found them. If her daughter was in danger then there was only one thing to do.
She picked up four things that she would need.
First she picked up her rifle before sliding it into its carrying case.
Then she went to where she'd stored the prepared bullets before sliding each round into its proper place in a strip of webbing she could strap across her chest. It looked like she was going to find out if these rounds would, in fact, work.
Thirdly she plucked a mask that'd be going on display out of its box that was just big enough to cover her entire face if she put it on. One side was solid black while the other was white but with an open hole that would leave the eye exposed but that worked fine for her.
Why? Because of the fourth and final item she kept in her purse wherever she went: the crimson eye targeting eye patch. It was something that had remained after Halloween had come to an end and it still worked like it had for her fictional character. Multiple vision modes, up to twenty magnification levels and had communications incorporated into its strap design. It was also just the right size so that she'd be able to wear it through the side of the mask that had the exposed eye beneath it.
I'm on my way, Buffy, she thought as she left her gallery, locking the door behind her. You're not alone in this and you never will be.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
Sunset Club, Sunnydale
Buffy's POV
Maybe I should've taken up Xander's offer of backup, she thought before giving up on pounding her way through the door.
She'd talked him out of coming with her by saying there was no need for both of them to get in trouble with Snyder and that she could handle Ford herself. The truth of the matter was that she just didn't want to put him in a situation where he might have to rely on what he'd inherited from his Halloween self.
Big Boss.
As soon as she'd realized that her best guy friend had gone as a real person rather than someone fictional, she'd had Willow dig up what she could on 'MSF' and its leader. According to the redhead, the organization claimed that it was a 'deterrent for hire' that would go wherever the job required them to go. It was even speculated by several experts that MSF was the original seed from which all the following private military companies sprung. However, due to their money-focused job, questionable tactics on the battlefield and their oil rig base of operations, they were often referred to as pirates.
There were numerous rumors though that they had numerous important clients, ranging from the KGB, the American Joint Chiefs of Staff and many other nations.
However when MSF's base of operations was destroyed in 1974, all of their activities came to light as well as a suspected list of clients, even though those same people and groups denied any connections existed. While not as longwinded as some, the scandal involving MSF went through the rounds in the media, with several experts pegging them as money grubbing guns for hire that could not be trusted.
She wasn't stupid enough to think that everything shown on TV, even back in the seventies, could be taken at face value, but with nothing disrupting the image being painted of MSF, the basics had to be true. Right?
If that was the case then Xander had a whole bunch of bad stuff stuck in his head and she was afraid that the more he tapped into it for whatever reason, the more he'd be changed as a person. She didn't want that for him. She wanted him to remain her best friend, a goofy guy who'd saved her life twice, instead of someone who wouldn't lift a finger to help unless money was involved. She was very much a child of her generation and, as such, she believed that where fighting was involved, both principles as well as fundamental rights should be the prime motivators. To make the almighty dollar the governing reason for what you shot or what you blew up made you less of a person in her eyes. It was too much like the vampires who acted based on their need for blood and their primal hunger for carnage.
Who knew? Maybe the people in charge of MSF were demons or vampires looking to make a buck while at the same time sate their thirst for violence.
In any case, she didn't want the stuff Xander had inside of him to seep any deeper than it had to before Giles got his chance to fix things. After all, just because her Watcher couldn't do anything now that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to later. Whether later turned out to be weeks or months she didn't know but she was confident that Giles would come through for them. All they had to do was keep what they'd gained Halloween night at arm's length as best they could until then and everything would go back to normal.
"It's no use, Summers," Ford said from behind her. "It's almost sundown and once the sun's gone, I figure we'll have twenty minutes at best before they get here."
"That means you've all got a little under an hour to live and those'll be the lucky ones," she said as she turned around to glare at her former friend. "The unlucky ones'll be tortured for weeks or months before the vampires get tired of it all and kill you."
"You're wrong!" the blonde girl in the blue and black dress shouted. "So long as we give you up, they'll make all of us like them. Immortal! Superhuman! It'll be wonderful!"
"Oh, yeah! Wonderful… so long as you don't mind handing over your bodies to a demonic spirit that'll go after any friends and family you have as its first meal," she said, remembering what Giles had told her about the common tendencies of newly risen vampires. "Depending on how 'playful' the new owner of your body turns out to be, they might just be drained to death or they might be turned into 'pets' for the vampire's sick games."
She could see that some of the teens in the club were a bit shaken by the idea but most stubbornly clung to their delusion of ascendance to becoming 'Lonely Ones'.
At least this proves that stupidity isn't limited to hair color, she thought, remembering the few blonde jokes that had been tossed her way since she dyed her hair.
Still, until she had a moment of inspiration for getting the door open, all she could do was wait for Giles to notice her absence and send reinforcements or hope that the vamp Ford had made a deal with didn't have a big gang. In either case, things would turn out okay since Giles could open the door from the outside or she could handle a small group of vamps, assuming there weren't any of Spike's age amongst them.
If Giles didn't send reinforcements, though, or the vamps turned out to be too much for her to handle… she knew she'd die young soon after facing her first vampire. Even with all the training and experience she'd gained since her time with Merrick, she knew that she wouldn't live to see twenty. If tonight turned out to be the night that she met her end, she just hoped that the people she loved wouldn't do anything too crazy. Giles would grieve but would feel obligated to take care of Willow, Dawn and Xander in her name if nothing else. Xander would probably be all the more determined to take revenge on the vampires and use anything that could help him advance towards that goal. Dawn would probably want to follow him given her childish crush on him but she trusted that her mom would keep that from happening. Willow… she'd either be crushed by her death or be hardened by it, but in any case the redhead would probably follow Xander wherever he went, supporting him all the way.
Then she heard the sound of the door mechanism working, causing her as well as just about everyone else turn. When she saw the door open she was worried that the vamps had somehow figured out a way to get to the club early. However Xander came in with the prop rifle that'd been a part of his Halloween costume raised, as if prepared to fire at the first sign of hostile movement.
"Cavalry's here, Buffy," Xander said with a slight rasp to his voice. "Not that I'm all that impressed with the baddie this time around. Definitely amateur hour here."
"The fuck you say?!" Ford exclaimed, looking and sounding quite pissed about the recent turn of events. "I planned this for MONTHS down to the smallest detail!"
"And yet you forgot to make sure that any backup Buffy might have couldn't get here in time to thwart your dastardly plan," Xander said sarcastically, without letting his aim or his gaze waver. "Did you really think that if Buffy bailed on her afternoon classes and didn't check in, that someone wouldn't come looking for her before sundown? Sloppy planning but I'm not complaining. Ready to go, Buff?"
"Way past ready," she said as she turned her back on Ford and headed for the door.
Hopefully now that Ford's plan had fallen apart, the sheep he'd been ready to serve up to the vamps would figure out that survival depended on vacating the premises immediately. It was one thing to be all confident about being turned into a 'Lonely One' when you had the means to hold up your end of the bargain, but it was something else entirely when you didn't. Sure, some of the supremely stupid ones would probably think that they could talk their way out of the bad situation but hopefully most of them would an IQ superior to that of a chimp.
"S-somebody stop them!" the blonde in the blue dress managed to yell out despite her obvious fear. "If the Slayer gets away, it's all over for us!"
"Sure. Go ahead. Do something," Xander said, never losing the rasp but deadly serious with his tone. "But before you do I'd like you to think about something."
Xander raised the barrel of his rifle, pulling the trigger.
To the surprise of both her as well as everyone else in the room, the prop turned out to be a REAL rifle loaded with REAL bullets.
"No, this is not a prop, yes it's loaded with real bullets and yes I will shoot whoever decides to do something stupid," Xander said, once more lowering his aim to direct the barrel at the crowd of club patrons. "So the question you've got to ask yourself is: do I really want to be the first to die?"
THAT had a decisive effect on everyone, her included.
She was certain that none of the vampire fan girls or boys would try anything because, while they might all have wanted to become undead, it was a prerequisite that they be alive for the turning. Then, of course, there was the fact that if the scent of blood in the air got too strong it might stir any group of vamps into a feeding frenzy, so that'd be bad, too, but she doubted that the idiots before her realized that.
It was times like these that made her wish that the truth about demons and vampires could be made public because then situations like these wouldn't happen.
Or at least not to anyone she'd lose sleep over if they were killed.
As she walked out of the club with Xander, she waited until they were in the open air before she decided to get chatty.
"Where the HELL did you get bullets?!" she asked in anger at the development. "For that matter, why is that thing real? Shouldn't it have gone back to being a prop after the spell ended?"
"Yeah, it should've, but the thing is that it didn't really change weight or balance at all when the spell hit and after it ended. I'm thinking I somehow got a real gun from that costume shop," Xander replied, slinging the rifle onto his back via the strap across his chest. "Just needed ammo."
"And you got that where?" she asked as they began to head to the high school.
"Local army surplus store. Before I got offered Snake's MSF sneaking suit, I was planning on getting some used camo fatigues from the place," he replied as a slightly puzzled look came over his face. "I went there to see if there was anything I could get that'd be useful to us but the owner had some guys he was talking to. Then out of nowhere he started talking to me like I was a regular and asked me to help him bring some stuff out from the back room. Didn't really know what was going on but I played along. When we got out back, the owner picked up three ammo cases and shoved them into my arms before telling me to scram out back with them."
"And you didn't ask why? Or just drop the cases and leave?" she asked, making it clear that that would've been what she'd have done in his place.
"I tried asking why but he wasn't letting me get a word in edgewise and all but shoved me out the back door with them. I get the feeling that the bullets inside aren't exactly legal for civilian sale," Xander said, sounding like he had tried to refuse the ammo. "As for not ditching them afterwards… it'd be a shame to let perfectly good bullets go to waste. Plus, after I looked inside, I found out that they're compatible with the AM MRS-4, so it seemed like divine intervention to me and I kept'em."
"And if those guys who were making the store owner sweat come looking for you?" she asked, pointing out a very real possibility.
"So what if they do? They have to prove I took anything and I hid the cases someplace they'll never find them," he replied, not looking worried like he should've been.
"And if they find you here in the open with that on your back?" she asked, pointing out a real possibility.
"What makes you think they'll be any different from the local P.D.?" he asked in return, though skeptical. "Those fat asses definitely don't come out after dark even if you call 911."
"There's always a chance," she pointed out insistently, trying to make him see reason.
"I stand a better chance of running into Spike out of the blue than the firearm cops," he said, not sounding worried in the least.
"Then today must be your lucky day, mate," came a cockney voice that she remembered all too well from parent teacher night.
Turning around, she saw a sight that made her glad that it was only her and Xander standing there because at least then the rest of the people they cared about would survive. A little over thirty yards away was not only Spike and the girl she'd seen Angel talking to but, fourteen minion vamps backing the Slayer killer up. For a moment she wondered why the Billy Idol wannabe had come from but then she realized: THIS was the vamp Ford had made a deal with.
It just figured that her former friend would make a deal with the current top dog of the vampire community instead of some random bloodsucker.
In response to a threat, Xander brought his rifle off his back and aimed it in the general direction of the vampires but, as she'd expected, none of the undead were worried.
"Didn't you get the memo, whelp? Guns don't work on us." Spike said with condescending amusement.
"They can't kill you, sure," Xander said, an updated version of his lopsided grin growing onto his face.
Then, without warning, he dropped to one knee before opening fire, shooting in bursts rather than just holding down the trigger. To her surprise vamp after vamp fell to their knees, with one of those knees bloody and broken, revealing the strategy her friend was going for.
"Slow you down, though? Oh yeah!" Xander said as he continued to fire even as the vamps supernatural reflexes and speed got them behind cover.
"Bloody wanker! I'll skin you alive for that!" Spike yelled from cover but wisely did not stick his head out to glare.
Xander's only response was to spray the bleach blonde vampire's cover with more bullets.
For a moment she thought that this was their big chance to bail, make a run for it, but then the facts came down like a hammer on that course of action. Even if some of the vamps had been kneecapped, there were still enough that could chase after them and, even if she could get away, her best guy friend wouldn't fare so well. If it'd just be the minions she could probably manage keeping the two of them alive but, with Spike and his girlfriend around, that was just a little too risky for her liking. They needed to either scare Spike and his crew into retreating or kneecap all of them so they couldn't pursue.
"You got enough rounds to make'em all want crutches?" she asked, hoping that by whispering right into Xander's ear while he was shooting so that Spike wouldn't catch anything.
"Not as long as they stick to cover like they're doing. Problem is if I ease up enough to let them come out of cover, some of them will get to us," he replied, quickly swapping out a magazine for a fresh one. "One of them kills me or knocks my MRS-4 away and they'll dog pile us."
If the vamps did that then they'd be in bad shape, with Xander probably being dead and her limping home, if she was lucky.
What other option was there?
CHOW!
"What the hell?!" she exclaimed even as she watched one of the vamps fall out from behind its cover even as it turned to dust with the all too familiar demonic cry echoing in the air.
CHOW!
Another vamp turned to dust, this time missing a good portion of its head.
"Sounds like we've got backup!" Xander said with glee even as he took shot of his own at the vamps startled enough to stray from their cover long enough for the shot to count. "And I got a feeling I know who it is."
Someone they knew who could fire precision shots and didn't need to be close by?
That could only mean…
"MOM!" she exclaimed, terrified and incredulous at the idea of her mother being here and using a sniper rifle to kill vampires.
This was a whole new level Hellmouthiness that she didn't want to deal with!
Xander's POV
Last mag, he thought calmly even as he focused on what wandered into his crosshairs.
Still, things were turning out better than he'd hoped they would after Spike and his minions had showed up. When that'd happened, he'd figured 'take as many of them down with me' was the best he could hope for. Sure, his plan to kneecap as many as he could was a good one but he'd predicted that it wouldn't last long once the element of surprise was lost. Until that first sniper shot let him know that they had backup, his only plan had been to keep Spike and his gang pinned down until either he or Buffy came up with a new plan.
Now, though, the cover the vamps had wasn't nearly as effective from wherever Missus S was sniping them from.
"Buffy? Get your stake ready," he said as a reckless course of action formed in his mind. "When I say 'go', follow me in. Stake and move on. Got it?"
For a moment it looked like Buffy would refuse to follow the plan but, after a look of instinctual decision making, she nodded in agreement.
"GO!" he said before he charged the nearest vamp behind cover.
As soon as his line of sight was obstruction free he opened up, aiming for the spine or the head, depending on which turned out to be closer to his crosshairs. As soon as he saw the vamps behind the first clump of cover begin to fall to the ground he changed direction to the next closet grouping. He knew Buffy would be right behind him, staking the vamps he'd disabled before following him to the next group. All he had to do was keep doing what he was doing with his remaining ammo, trusting that Joyce would cover him so he didn't get in too much over his head.
Two quick sniper shots from Joyce hit the cover he believed that Spike and his girlfriend had ducked behind but that position was still a ways ahead of him. He had to remain aware of where the greatest threat would be but stay focused on taking every position of cover closest to him one at a time.
Deal with the threats in front of you before moving on to the ones further away.
However, as he reached the position of cover just two shy of Spike's hiding spot, reality chose this moment to make one of the concerns of his strategy a reality.
With an ominous click his MRS-4 told him that he was out of ammunition and he knew all too well that he'd been on his last mag. Worse than that, the vamp in front of him at the moment knew that, too, and with Buffy coming up behind him he must've looked like a hostage of opportunity. Unfortunately the bloodsucker's brush of good fortune made it careless and THAT was something he could take advantage of.
As soon as the vamp got to within reach he let his inner Snake take control and tried to immerse himself in the skills he'd managed to dredge up from his mind. Step one, reach for arm extended furthest in your direction, step two, once a solid grip has been established, reposition yourself and then step three, use the momentum of the vamp plus your own movements to execute a throw. One of the good things of a CQC style that was major parts both Judo and Jujitsu was that neither style was all that hampered by someone who was stronger or faster than you.
As a result, the vampire who thought he had himself a helpless hostage suddenly went airborne before landing in the ground behind him, temporarily dazed.
Looking at the vamp's shocked companion he charged forward before the bloodsucker could recover and executed another throw, slamming the creature to the ground. Just as the first one he'd thrown recovered enough to begin to get to its feet Buffy was there, ramming a stake into its heart before doing the same to the second one.
Putting himself back behind cover he tried to think of what to do next.
He was out of ammunition and the other vamps wouldn't so easily be taken by surprise, even if he rushed them, and without surprise their superior speed would make taking them down impossible.
"How many left?" he asked Buffy after she took a crouched position next to him.
"Six, not including Spike and his girlfriend," she replied, looking like she was decidedly more optimistic about their chances than she had been before the shooting had started. "This time you follow me. I'll knock'em down then you make sure they stay down. Got it?"
"Right behind you, boss lady," he replied with a grin feeling like things were finally going their way.
Buffy left cover and began to advance on the remaining vampires, confidence in her stride, and him feeling a little bit of it himself. As soon as they arrived at the next grouping Buffy delivered a combo of kicks and punches that sent her foe to the ground. He didn't hesitate to move forward and slam the stake Buffy'd tossed in his direction into the undead corpse's chest right where the heart would be. Seeing it turn to ash he looked up just in time to witness the blonde Slayer toss the second one down to the ground, allowing him to repeat the process he'd used on the previous one.
Looking up, he was just in time to see what looked to be Spike and his girlfriend running for their undead lives.
Two shots from their overwatch sizzled overhead and, sadly, despite Missus Summers' best efforts, they managed to evade the shots until they were almost certainly out of the sniper's line of sight.
Not the ending he would've preferred but being alive and driving off the vamps that would've snacked on those sheep in the Sunset Club was enough to mark this as a victory.
There was just one thing left to do before heading home.
Turning to where he presumed Joyce's sniper nest was, he waved his hands back and forth to get her attention before using hand gestures to tell her what to do.
The same thing he was going to do.
Seeing a flash of light off of what he presumed was the scope of a rifle, he began the tedious but necessary job as he knelt down.
"What're you doing?" Buffy asked, walking up to his side.
"Picking up all the shell casings from my rifle," he replied as he picked up another shell before moving to where the next scattering of them were. "Even if the local P.D. don't show up soon, they will come at sunrise and I put every round I fired into the magazines by hand. They've got my fingerprints all over them. When you don't have a badge and you do shit like this, cleaning up after yourself is a necessity."
At the mention of police and possibly seeing cop cars outside of his home, Buffy immediately went to work helping him and for that he was glad. With her Slayer senses she'd be sure to find the ones he missed because, while he doubted that the local police were competent, he'd prefer not to take any chances.
Better to treat them like they were the best in the state and be proven wrong than to take them too lightly only to wind up in handcuffs.
It didn't mean that picking up the shells ejected from his rifle were any more fun to pick up, though. Maybe he needed to look into a brass catcher of some kind. And gloves. He was definitely wearing gloves when he reloaded.
Town Hall, Mayor's Office
Mayor Wilkins' POV
"Well, isn't this is a surprise!" he said as he finished listening to the report. "And you're certain of every word?"
"Yes sir," the vampire in front of him replied. "I monitored the situation at the Sunset Club and, when the fighting began, I made sure to commit every detail to memory. I know how much you care about the details, sir."
"Indeed I do. In my line of work missing a detail or two could mean the difference between success and a very messy end," he said honestly, both referring to politics and his 'hobby'. "You've given me a lot to think about. I'll see to it that Doctor Sanderson sets aside three extra bags of blood at the hospital for you. You may leave."
A nod was all he received in return before the vampire left him to his thoughts.
When he'd first heard that one of the Slayer's old friends from Los Angeles had come to Sunnydale, he'd considered it a minor detail since the young man was most likely a 'civilian' who knew nothing of the truth. However, when the lad went to some great effort to establish a club for admirers of vampires, this had added a new wrinkle to the mix that only continued to get more complex. Being a longtime planner himself, it hadn't taken him long to deduce the lad's intentions and, to be honest, he was a bit impressed. So many young men and women of the current generation didn't care about planning more than a few months in advance and certainly not anything truly ambitious. It was heartening to see that at least one boy was shooting for the brass ring.
However what happened only a few short hours ago troubled him because of how the altercation had turned out.
Miss Summers arriving during the day to confront her old friend about his duplicity had been expected, since it was in keeping with the psychological workup he'd had an associate do on her. It also hadn't been a surprise that young Mister Fordham had rigged the door to the club to only be capable of being opened from the outside. What had been a surprise though was young Mister Harris showing up with an assault rifle and freeing the Slayer just a short while before sundown. From there it'd been one surprise after another until he was left with a potential problem.
In an act that defied conventional norms, firearms had proven themselves to be effective in repelling a sizeable vampire group.
Ever since firearms had become common, both demons and demon hunters had experimented to see how effective they'd be against their enemies. On humans they worked as expected but, when used against demons, they often only proved effective if the shots did enough physical damage to overcome the inherent durability or regenerative ability of most dangerous demons. Nevertheless, the various demon lords and clan leaders were wise enough to realize that, given enough time, humans might develop firearms that were better and more of a threat.
Thus a plan was hatched.
In one all-encompassing action they started or became involved in conflicts with several notable demon hunting groups, up to and including the Watcher's Council. The intent was to orchestrate events that would rub the noses of the various groups in the fact that guns were useless against demons, or at least inefficient. By doing this they managed to push humans into believing that the old traditional ways of vanquishing demons was the only way to do things. This, of course, suited the various demon breeds since the number of normal humans capable of killing a demon with bladed weapons or arrows were few and even those few did not last long before being slain.
Of course every few decades some youngster got it into their head that they could make it work, but fortunately most of them were too incompetent to succeed.
Those that weren't and might well have succeeded were suitably dealt with and discredited so that no one would take their work seriously; the ravings of the insane and all that.
Now one Alexander Harris and, he suspected, Joyce Summers had managed to call this 'truth' into doubt. As was the case with most scandals it wouldn't be long before all of Sunnydale heard that William the Bloody had been sent running with his proverbial tail between his legs by two humans with guns. Even if he employed the usual methods for keeping the truth from making it very far, he doubted that this would be an isolated incident. Both the Summers woman and Harris boy had just pulled off a major achievement, which would spur them onwards to seeing how far they could run with it.
That could prove to be a problem, especially if they managed to inspire someone with resources to contribute to their efforts.
With a sigh he realized where the root of the issue had been planted and it was his own devilish inner child that had kept him from taking action to prevent it. When Ethan Rayne, a notable chaos mage, had come to town, he'd suspected that the man's calling would crop up, but when the man opened a costume shop he'd been curious. It was only after he'd arranged a meeting with the man to learn his intentions that he'd gone from curious to amused. A spell that would cause all who purchased an item from the man's shop to become that which they had chosen to pretend to be. Mister Rayne had, of course, assured him that each trick or treater would be a mere shadow of whoever they were pretending to be. A kid who dressed up to Superman would indeed gain the Kryptonian's abilities but they would at best be a twentieth, if not less, of what the genuine article possessed. Add to that the fact that when the spell came to an end no one would retain anything and he'd considered the event a source of amusement.
He'd been wrong.
The sheer amount of chaos magic that'd been unleashed that night had sent him into a minor frenzy working to ensure that the various spells he'd cast on Sunnydale remained intact and functional. He was, after all, on the road to Ascension and that wouldn't sit well with certain individuals who had plans of their own that didn't include a pure demon roaming about. As such he'd been forced to take steps when he'd founded Sunnydale, to keep any energies or portents from leaking to outside parties. It'd also been back then that he'd erected the special field that made all who did not come into direct contact with the supernatural rationalize anything unusual as something normal. If those two things were destroyed or damaged in some manner, it would compromise his entire effort and so he'd done his best Halloween night to keep that from happening.
In the days that followed he'd had his best people evaluate the effects the chaos energy had had on the surrounding environment as well as those that'd been enchanted. Most of the results had been disconcerting but not alarming, such as the difficulty in spell casting for the next few years. However, when he received word of the changes that'd remained in Slayer Summers and her associates, he'd frowned at the adjustments that he'd need to make to his plans. The most important of those alterations had been an increase in security around the nearby military base and a discussion with Detective Stein to be extra vigilant in the area of gun control and illegal firearms.
He'd even looked into ways of placing metal detectors at the local high school as a 'preventative measure' against school shootings. The only difficulty he'd been having on that front was fabricating the justification for them in the first place. There had been no newsworthy shootings in the last few years that he could use as a springboard event for putting the machines into practice. He was confident he'd find the justification he needed, even if he had to find some suitably bullied teenager to go on a shooting spree.
Now, though, with what Alexander Harris and Joyce Summers had managed, he was beginning to wonder if he had as much time as he thought he had.
Both of them had proven themselves to be more capable than what he'd previously anticipated and, if they, along with the others, continued to grow in that direction, more aggressive action would be necessary. For now, though, he would pay closer attention to the group, very close attention, to see if his fears were justified.
Though perhaps a little proactive action would not be unwarranted, he thought with a frown. A suitable method kept in waiting should the threat they pose be verified.
The usual method of dealing with a threat would be to employ a suitable demon or cast a spell to remove them from the stage of life. Against a Slayer and a Watcher, though, such a method might not work without tipping someone off to his existence. The number of people who knew the truth about him weren't very many and fortunately those who did he had managed to trick into a magically binding contract not to reveal what they knew to anyone on pain of death. That being said, no one in the supernatural community worth knowing about would fail in keeping rudimentary tabs on the persons of interest in their area, or even the famous individuals that could enter their area. If he contracted the work out or attempted to acquire spell ingredients that would be beyond a Watcher's ability to counter, that would be noticed. If those that noticed were curious and sent agents to investigate, that would simply be even more troublesome work that he'd have to do to keep things running smoothly.
He needed something more subtle, something that could be written off as something typical of the Hellmouth, and yet at the same time reliable for dealing with his problem.
Perhaps a little research will give me the inspiration I need.
Sunnydale High School Library
Dawn's POV
"While the matter seems to be resolved satisfactorily, I cannot help but feel a bit disappointed that I was not consulted before you took action, Xander," Giles said after placing his freshly cleaned glasses back on his nose.
"You were dealing with Snyder and I knew you wouldn't like me using a gun," Xander said, laying out the plain facts. "That and time was a factor."
"Be that as it may, you may wish to exercise a little more caution in the future," Giles said with sincere concern. "Especially with the use of firearms. You were fortunate this time that you were able to take them by surprise. Next time you might not be so lucky."
"What do you mean? Xander and Mom totally kicked ass!" she exclaimed, still buzzed by the story of how Spike had been sent running.
"Firearms have been proven to be unreliable in the war on demonkind. In some cases it has proven to be sufficient but in others useless. As a result it is the policy of most demon hunting groups to employ more reliable weaponry and tools in the fight," Giles explained in an instructional manner. "In many cases it is simply the fact that most demons are too fast to keep an accurate bead on making doing sufficient damage rather difficult. In others the dense bone structure or regenerative abilities make whatever damage the bullets do pointless."
Taking that in, she could see how those obstacles would be pains to overcome but she still thought that modern weaponry was superior to swords and axes. The old tools required years of training before the user could be considered skilled, whereas with guns it was basically point and shoot. For guns the only additional thing you needed to learn was how to take environmental variables into account in order to improve accuracy. She might not know how long it took the average person to get a feel for those things and up their accuracy but it had to be less time than it took to become proficient in bladed weaponry.
"Then, of course, there are the legal ramifications of employing firearms as weapons," Giles said, taking his reasoning further. "In most cases it is significantly hard to acquire the certification and qualifications that are required in order for a civilian to be permitted to carry a firearm in public. I find it doubtful that we could gain permission for all of us to carry firearms and, even if we did, there are only so many legal reasons for civilians to fire their weapons in public or at anyone."
"Yeah. You start shooting and the cops show up telling you to drop the gun and get down on the ground," Buffy said, showing she was of the same mind as her Watcher. "Slaying demons and saving the world's difficult enough without dodging the police. It's a pain in the ass just dealing with Snyder."
"I'm not saying we go all OK corral with what we've got but with silenced gear and a little strategic planning we can manage," Xander said, not willing to give up on guns for slaying. "Besides, you know like I do that the local P.D. are blind and deaf to trouble in Sunnydale."
"Only of the supernatural sort. Guns are conventional enough that they fall under the definition of 'normal' and therefore it is more likely that they will take action," Giles pointed out, not willing to concede defeat just yet.
"Which is why I made sure we picked up all the shell casings before leaving the Sunset Club," Xander said defensively, crossing his arms across his chest. "I also rubbed down anything me or Buffy might've touched going in or coming out of the place. The only way the cops'll know we were there is if they believe a bunch of vamp lovers and I don't see that happening."
"Regardless of how well the matter has been resolved, that does not mean that others will end so favorably in the future," Giles said, getting a bit more heated. "It would be reckless to push one's luck any further."
"And where's playing it safe gotten us so far, Giles?" Xander asked, meeting heat with heat. "Based on everything you've told me, the fight against the demons has been going on since the beginning of recorded history, if not longer. Have we wiped out the hostile species of demons? Have we driven them from the planet? How many of us have they killed compared to how many of them we've killed? Or have we just been maintaining the status quo for thousands of years?"
"I share your frustration concerning the status quo but modern weaponry is not the answer!" Giles replied beseechingly, as though trying to make Xan understand. "It is a theory bandied about the Council water cooler that several powerful demon lords and their allies have what could be termed a 'big red button'. A precaution they have in case humanity ever showed elevated aggression against demonkind. It is believed that enough members of the demon hunting community's leadership believe in this to unofficially agree to keep the war covert and limited."
"And did this leadership share this info with the rank and file?" Xander asked, not liking what he'd heard. "Did they even give you a censored briefing on why the war can't be escalated? Or is all this just rumors and barroom talk?"
"Well… no, but-" Giles replied, sounding like he had nothing to fall back on.
"Then for all you know the reason we haven't taken the fight to the demons is because all the heads of these groups are a bunch of tradition loving inflexible morons." Xander fired back, the rasp fully in his voice now. "Or maybe they're so in love with the power they have during the war they don't want to lose it by winning the war."
"Now you listen here and you listen well!" Giles yelled, finally having lost at least a portion of his emotional restraint. "Every Watcher I have ever met or had the pleasure of working with has had one thing in common: every last one of them was one hundred percent committed to the fight! They give their all day in and day out to keeping the darkness at bay!"
"I'm not talking about the rank and file, Giles! I'm talking about the people that make the big decisions! The ones that make the rules everyone else has to follow!" Xander said, standing up to glare at Giles eye to eye. "What can the good people do when the people in charge tie their hands and get in the way?"
"I might not like Travers and his ilk but the Council is a democratic organization. If there were any grounds for your suspicion of negligence or willful obstruction of our cause, he would've been arrested and placed on trial. If found guilty he would've been stripped of all authority and likely undergo selective memory removal to eliminate him as a security risk."
"Only if he's incompetent at covering his tracks and doesn't have friends in all the right places to keep tabs on any action being taken him," Xander countered, not backing down from his point of view. "Unless you can prove to me that the Council leadership has to swear some kind of magical oath that'll kill'em if they ever betray the cause, I'm sticking to my version of the truth."
For a few seconds the two men just looked at one another but, just when she thought that another round of yelling was to begin, Giles sighed in defeat.
"You are entitled to your opinion, Xander, and currently I lack the evidence to change your mind," Giles said in a more reasonable tone of voice. "Nevertheless, I must insist that any further use of firearms be run by me first. As Buffy's Watcher, her safety is my top priority and I will not tolerate anything that places her or her mission in jeopardy. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Xander replied before turning to leave the library.
Looking to see if any of the others were going to go after him to calm him down, she was a little annoyed to see no one even try. With a bit of a huff she got out of her chair and went after him to hopefully cool him down enough to at least acknowledge the other side of the argument, even if neither of them agreed with it. She understood why Giles thought that way, he was in many ways a man of the past, and so she didn't hold it against him too much for sticking to what he knew.
Men were stubborn after all.
However she couldn't let the friction she'd seen just now cause cracks to form in the team that was all that stood in the way of the demons ruling the Hellmouth. For them to do their jobs, they needed to be in synch with one another, not yelling at one another and glaring. If none of the others were going to work on sanding off the rough edges that Xander probably had at the moment, then she would.
He'd probably be less likely to yell at her, too.
He had a soft spot for her.
Springfield, Illinois, America
Evening
Midtown Inn
She had a problem.
She had a problem and she needed to figure out a way to deal with it.
When she'd woken up in the middle of that field, she'd fought tooth and nail to stay who she was and, once that was done, she'd made for Ghent. It'd been hard at first, sneaking about trying to find clothing, but fortunately there were enough people who hung their clothes on clotheslines for her to get the basics pants and shirt. From there she'd started working ways of getting back to Sunnydale and that'd kept her occupied for a good number of hours, but in the end she'd chosen hitchhiking. She didn't have any money and didn't have all that much experience with stealing it from people, so she had no other choice but to rely on the kindness of strangers.
That had worked for a while, at least.
A old couple willing to help out a 'nice girl', a man that thought she looked like his little girl and THEN she got a ride from a guy who at first seemed nice but became a complete scum bucket. It'd started out with a few offhand comments about how pretty she was but THEN things changed. He started getting a little too friendly, started asking about what she liked and then offered to show her a few spots he knew 'along the way'. However it'd been when he'd he put a hand on her thigh and started rubbing that she'd clued into what he really wanted out of her. He'd probably been planning on asking her to pay her hitchhiker's fee once they got as far west was he was going but she'd chosen to get out early.
He hadn't liked that and had tried to cash in his payment early.
She'd resisted.
He'd insisted.
And that had been when things had gone to hell.
Something had… clicked… inside of her and before she even realized what was going on she'd grabbed the guy by the wrist and squeezed until the asshole was on the ground, before kicking him in the face knocking him out cold. As soon as she was convinced that the man was unconscious the same something had clicked off and she'd been left to clean up the mess. A little afraid of what she'd done she'd jumped at the distraction of safely disposing of him. She'd ransacked his vehicle and his pockets for anything of value, giving priority to cash or items that could be fenced at a pawn shop. Once that'd been accomplished she'd parked his car someplace out of the way, with him tied up in the trunk with some bungee cords she'd found.
She hadn't expected them to hold him for long and the parking spot wasn't far enough out of the way that no one would find him if he failed to get out.
If his luck really stunk and he… died, she'd feel a little bad about it, but only a little.
After all, she only knew his face and nothing else, so even if he died it probably wouldn't rate anything more than a small obituary in the local newspaper.
She couldn't feel bad about getting someone killed if she never found out in the first place.
A few hours later she'd arrived at a big enough city that there was a good selection of pawn shops to choose from, so she'd divided her spoils amongst them to lower the risk of anyone getting suspicious. Anything with an identifying mark or inscription was either damaged further to make positively identifying it impossible just in case the original owner filed a police report listing items she'd stolen. In the end she'd gotten a decent amount of travel money but she still needed to stretch it where she could and that was why she was currently at the cheapest motel in Springfield.
That hadn't been the only problem she'd encountered before today, though.
No, the BIG problem hadn't happened until she'd gotten caught up in a convenience store robbery a few days before. The man had been a complete crackhead and had obviously been looking for a way to get enough money to feed his habit, but given the sort of shakes he'd been showing he hadn't had much success until then. Naturally she'd done her best not to draw his attention as he waved his gun in the cashier's face but then the guy had gotten the bright idea to rob everyone else in the store while he was at it. One by one he'd gone to people like a bomb about to go off and she'd been afraid that if something wasn't done he'd follow a warped line of though that'd end with him killing everyone who'd seen his face.
So she'd asked herself: what would Buffy do?
As much as she might hate her older sister for some of the things she did, she still looked up to her because hey who wouldn't look up to a real live superhero.
She'd also asked herself what Xander would do and oddly enough the two courses of action could basically be summed up in wait until the enemy gets close, distract them with something and then rush them. The idea was that, if she moved quickly enough, she could force the barrel of his gun skyward and then knee him in the crotch before delivering a right cross to the jaw. She'd gotten as far as grabbing the hand holding the gun but the firearm must've had a feather trigger because it'd gone off and she'd felt the impact of the bullet. However instead of crippling pain she'd felt nothing and when she'd reached down to pull up her shirt to look at the wound she'd seen something that could not possibly have been considered human.
A pool of silver colored liquid spread out from the point of impact about the size of a coaster.
Then she'd watched the liquid flow back towards the center, expelling the bullet, before becoming smooth as steel, and then like a ripple it went back to looking like perfectly normal skin.
She'd raised her gaze to the druggie and she'd been able to tell that he'd seen the same thing happen, and then in a split second she threw a haymaker to his jaw. She'd broken his jaw in the process but at least he'd been removed from the equation and then she'd bent down to scoop up the gun but she'd also picked up the spent bullet. On the fly she'd come up with the excuse that the guy had loaded his gun with blanks because he hadn't had the balls to use live rounds. It helped that she'd palmed the magazine before walking out of the store, ignoring their comments about needing to stay to give the police a statement.
She hadn't stopped moving until she'd reached the Midtown in and then used what money she had for a room.
Now, with no distractions, she had little choice but to think of the strange qualities she'd discovered about herself.
She didn't like the conclusion her mind was coming up with.
The sudden show of strength and combat skills could've been written off as something Hellmouthy or maybe a sign that some of what made a girl a Slayer was genetic. However there was no mistaking the inhuman nature of her flesh becoming a pool of liquid silver to take a bullet and then kicking the bullet out before reforming to its previous state. What had she become? Did it have something to do with how she'd been dumped in Ghent? She didn't know. For all that she'd learned about the Hellmouth and magic, she didn't know nearly enough to be able to conclusively say yes or no to that question. All that she could conclusively say was that she was not human anymore and, if she wanted to return to normal, then she needed to get back home so Mister Giles could fix her. He was like a magic encyclopedia with legs, so until she got proof to the contrary, she'd operate under the assumption that he could fix her until proven otherwise.
The thing that made time a deciding factor, though, was that IT, the other part of her that she'd wrested control of her body from, was making it clear that it was still there. She'd thought that once she'd won control of her body that it'd been destroyed, or at least would never become a problem again, but that wasn't true. It was the proverbial person watching you from across the street, following you from only a block or two behind and she had a hunch that it had ties to her new weirdness. Had it been behind her kicking that bastard's ass when he'd attempted to force himself on her? Or was it stuck just being an observer and would pounce if an opportunity to take back the body popped up?
She didn't know.
All she did know was that now she had to keep watch, use some of those meditation techniques Mister Giles had taught Buffy, to make sure no opportunities popped up. The Summers family stubbornness might've won the day before but that didn't mean it'd always work. If she'd been transformed into some kind of robot and IT turned out to be the mind attached to that robot body, then it'd adapt to her and eventually overcome her if she didn't get to Giles quickly enough.
What it'd do to her then she didn't know and didn't want to know.
All she could say with certainty was that it wouldn't be of the good.
All the more reason to head out at first light, she thought with a frown. Maybe even splurge and pool the rest of my money on a bus ticket.
Rationing out money to pay for motels had shown that she had just enough to last until she arrived back in Sunnydale after factoring in rest time. However a bus ticket across the country would be expensive, almost two hundred dollars if her math was right, and she didn't know if it'd get her to where she wanted to go quicker or slower. At the time her urgency had been simply because she had wanted to see her family and friends again but now she had a fire lit under her ass to pick up the pace. If she didn't get there soon enough, IT might succeed or perhaps draw attention to her by causing her inhumanness to show in public.
She'd seen enough sci-fi films to know that if the government or greedy corporations found out about the new her, they'd descend on her like vultures. A functional robot was something that was still in the realm of sci-fi at the moment, with no one being able to make anything close to being as advanced as her robo-body apparently was. If someone captured her now and had eggheads smart enough to figure her out they'd manage a leap forward decades ahead of the competition, maybe more. That'd be worth breaking a few rules over and maybe even a few laws if the people calling the shots thought the payday would be big enough.
As a result the urgency to get back to Sunnydale kicked up five notches and now a bus ticket was proving to be more than worth the financial expenditure.
The money she had wouldn't really do her much good if she got nabbed by men in black and chained to a disassembly table, now would it.
The Hallways of Sunnydale High School
The Next Day
Willow's POV
"So it's all tied up?" Xander asked low enough to reduce the odds of bystanders.
"Ford's parents have been tipped off as to where he is now and what he's been up to. According to the S.P.D. database there's no record of there being anything substantial found in or around the Sunset Club," she replied, remembering what her hacking had turned up. "I also checked to see if the cops had been asked to keep an eye out for illegal bullets but nothing digital to say that they were. Might've just gotten a paper copy of the request, though."
"Even if they did it just means I'll have to count my shots and make sure I pick up all the brass when the fighting's done," Xander said, sounding satisfied with her work.
"Maybe you should slow up a bit with the gun stuff," she said tentatively since she didn't want him to get mad then storm off. "Modern stuff might not be completely useless for fighting the big bads but we're still high school students, not big time badasses that can fight small armies singlehanded."
"I know but we'll never get there if we're too afraid to push ourselves," he said, sounding annoyed rather than angry, even if he did understand her references. "I'm doing what I can to pump some iron and I'm getting closer to the five mile fifty minute mark."
"Getting all muscled up is only half the equation, Xander," she pointed out to make sure he didn't gloss over the facts. "You still need to learn the moves that go with them. There's a reason self-taught fighters don't always do so well."
"Yeah. With no one around to point out the mistakes, they get set in stone 'til you need a sledgehammer to break the bad habits and learn how to do it right," he said, reluctantly conceding the point, "but who am I gonna have teach me? Most of what I know no one else does and the number of people who can spar with me to help get the kinks out number three. Cordy, Buffy and Dawn, to be precise."
That sounded about right.
Cordy had only been dropping in randomly since Halloween to find out if any progress had been made in turning them back to normal. The cheerleader hadn't come up with any new rants since that first blow up, so she assumed that Cordelia was managing to keep her Black Widow side under wraps. To that end it wasn't likely that the girl would volunteer for sparring matches. Dawn might be more willing but that was because she had a crush on Xander and finally had a body good enough to make a move. Buffy would think she was nuts if she said that out loud but she knew a crush when she saw one and, to be honest, she still did have one for Xander. Dawn wouldn't be able to keep her mind on the sparring and the learning if she was too busy putting the moves on her crush.
Oddly enough Buffy was the safe choice since she'd learned some fighting skills from Giles and Sonya Blade was supposed to be special forces, so her fighting style would be the closest to Snake's. There were just two problems with that plan. The first was the fact that the blonde girl had never really sparred with a normal human being and Giles always used pads to protect himself when he trained Buffy. If Xander tried to spar with Buffy there was no guarantee that the Slayer wouldn't accidently slip up with how much power she put behind each move.
The second problem was that she'd spoken with Buffy and knew that she didn't want Xander or any of them to try to learn what they had 'inherited' Halloween night. Her friend was afraid that doing so would change them too much from who they were into whoever they'd been dressed up as that night. She'd known early on after becoming friends with Buffy that one of the things the blonde wanted more than anything was to go back to being an ordinary teenager. Not that she blamed the girl since she'd want her old life back, too, if all of sudden all her futures got reduced to just fighting monsters in what'd probably felt like the blink of an eye.
As for her, she wasn't sure how she felt about her new enhancements.
On the one side of the coin she was loving the new knowledge she'd gained from R because it gave her ideas for things she could make to help Buffy. True, a lot of them required parts that weren't exactly available at your local electronics store but she bet that she could splice together some work arounds with a bit of time. It'd only been a short while since Halloween and she'd managed to think up so many possibilities it made her wonder what she'd be able to devise with even more time, plus better resources. If even half of her ideas could be made real, then maybe Xander's dream of a more aggressive fight against the darkness wouldn't be so dangerous.
On the other side of the coin, going back to normal did appeal to her.
By going back she wouldn't have to see Xander become harder and less caring as Snake's soldier instincts drove certain points home. By going back Dawn would regain some years and wouldn't have to get involved in any Scooby business for a little while longer. By going back, Missus Summers wouldn't have the memories and skills of someone that may or may not have been an assassin for hire.
Everything could stay like it had been.
Difficult but still fun, with the sun of hope in the air.
Too bad time only flowed in one direction.
"Giles can still watch you go through your routines, see you punch and kick, and maybe he can give you a few pointers," she said as they saw the library doors come into view.
"Well, he'll have to give me a few pointers after computer class," he said, closing to arm's length with the library door. "We barely got time to check in with him."
However just as Xander was about to push the door open he stopped, seeing something through the circular window built into it, before immediately moving to the side. Performing a hand signal that was easy enough to understand she moved to mirror him, albeit on the other side of the doorframe. Unlike him, though, she needed to know a bit more about why she was suddenly being all sneaky, so she inched as close as she could to the door window before peeking through.
"There was a homicide on campus last night. The victim had no identification, but he was carrying this slip of paper with your name and address on it," one person dressed like a cop said, holding up an evidence baggie.
"My name?" Giles asked, setting down a briefcase he'd been holding.
"Yes. We'll need you to come down to the station to positively ID the body and answer a few questions," the cop said with the usual tone of authority.
"O-of course. I'd be happy to assist the police," Giles said with a somewhat uneasy acceptance.
Predicting what was going to happen next, she and Xander immediately vacated the area around the library door before acting like they'd just been loitering in the hallway chatting. The cops and Giles left a short while later but Xander waited until all three were out of earshot before dropping the act.
"Can you hack into the P.D. to get a look at the most recent homicides?" he asked her and she bet he had something he'd be doing too.
"I'll know what they know inside of twenty minutes," she said before entering the library and heading for the only computer there.
"Good. Once we have more to work with we can figure out what's coming after Giles," he said before taking a position near the door that was obviously defensive.
"You don't think he's going to tell us?" she asked as the computer booted up.
"With the police involved? Not likely," he replied with a shake of his head. "He'll want us to keep our distance until the P.D. shelve the case or label it 'solved'. Best way to do that is to not tell us about it at all."
"And if we told him we found out?" she asked as she got online and began to navigate the net to the back door she had in the police department.
"He'll still tell us not to do anything until the police aren't paying attention," he replied, looking through one of the library door windows. "Problem is it's anyone's guess how long that'll be and time isn't something we usually have a lot of when the things with too many teeth come calling."
"I'm in. We're in luck, only two homicides last night," she said as she pulled the information up. "One was a woman, Mexican, in her early twenties. I think we can rule her out since the cop talking to Giles clearly said 'he' so that just leaves contestant number two. A man, forty-nine years of age, identified as one Philip Henry of the U.K. Preliminary examination by the coroner cites 'severe hand-shaped bruising around the neck, suggesting strangulation'."
"So something brings an old friend of Giles' across the pond and across the country to Sunnydale but he never makes the meeting because someone or something kills him?" he said, piecing everything together. "A Watcher, maybe? Playing courier for something or maybe needing to pass on info to Giles? Anything in the report about signs of theft?"
"No, but it's still early. According to the preliminary examination, death happened between nine and eleven last night," she replied continuing to pump the police database for information. "If they were a normal police department they'll need at least another day before they have more info about Mister Henry."
"Okay… okay… after classes today you get online and see if you can find out when he arrived in town, what airport he came out of and whatever else you can find out," he said, a plan forming in his mind. "If something Hellmouthy was chasing him and maybe after Giles, it doesn't strike me as the subtle type."
"Strangulation kinda gives that away," she said, nodding in agreement.
Following Mister Henry's trail might be difficult from the airport to Sunnydale but she was confident that she'd be able to find out when he arrived in country. After that it'd just be a matter of combing through the police databases and maybe a few hospitals along the most direct routes. While people might not acknowledge the existence of the paranormal, they didn't always recognize the signs of the paranormal, so they put them in the reports, never knowing what slipped past them.
She, on the other hand, would.
"Okay, that's all the time I have for right now," she said as she covered her digital highway tracks and shut down the computer. "I'll go back in later."
"Let's just hope that we have a later," he said before taking up the rear as they both left the library for Miss Calendar's computer class.