"You know what the trouble is with American grocers?" Wesley asked, as he stared at the brightly lit aisles of the supermarket.
"They don't have a whole aisle devoted to tea?" Buffy guessed, with a raised brow.
The former Watcher sighed. "Exert 'tea', insert 'scones,' and you have my dilemma."
Oz headed straight for the cereal aisle. "On the upside, they DO have six different kinds of Fruit Loops."
Buffy shook her head. "Uh uh, no Fruit Loops. The smell makes me nauseous."
The Werewolf smiled. "Me too. I like Cocoa Puffs."
"Ooh, Cocoa Puffs," she sighed happily, glancing critically at the selection. "Do you like the chocolate and peanut butter ones?" she asked hopefully.
Oz nodded and grabbed several boxes.
"I assume we ARE going to purchase some real food?" Wesley inquired archly.
"They don't have a Bangers and Mash aisle either, Your Imperialness," Buffy snarked.
He glared. "I was referring fruits and vegetables. Perhaps some bread and eggs?"
Buffy ignored him in favor of traversing to the frozen foods section. She stopped in front of breakfast foods and began to load the cart up with boxes of frozen waffles. Noticing that her companions were eyeing her strangely, she frowned. "I like Eggos after patrol," she explained defensively. Her eyes lit up. "Ooh, we need syrup!" Grabbing the cart, she took off at a near sprint.
Wes stared after her with a bemused expression. "I KNEW we should've made a list."
"I don't think it'd matter," Oz replied.
They trailed after Buffy, who raced haphazardly around the store whenever she thought of something they needed. Wes and Oz managed to sneak in some 'real food' like eggs, milk and cheese, but they ran into trouble at the frozen meat section.
The Slayer stared disdainfully at the package of ground hamburger in the ex-Watcher's hand. "But it's all raw and icky!" she complained.
He sighed. "Yes, and that's why you cook it."
"Cook it?" she repeated as though it was a foreign concept. Seeing that Wesley was about to place the package in the cart, she dodged him. "Don't you put that thing in my cart!"
"Buffy," he chided. "This is all perfectly normal. You keep the meat in your freezer, and then you make things with it."
She eyed the offending meat doubtfully and refused to let him near. "I like my beef already cooked and hamburgered up, thanks."
Wes raised a brow. "Given your night job, I'm surprised you're so squeamish about a bit of ground beef," he pointed out.
She glared. "Yes, but I spend over half of my day surrounded by dead bodies. I'd like the rest to be dead body free."
"Bloody hell," he swore, losing his upper crust veneer.
"The representative from Saneville would like the floor," Oz interjected mildly. They turned to look at him. "Why don't we get pre-roasted chicken and cold cuts?" Crisis averted.
Once they were finished, Buffy looked thoughtfully at the cart. "Something's missing," she mused, and then brightened. "I know! We need more coffee." She pushed the cart to the appropriate aisle and began perusing the selection. "Oz, any preferences?"
He joined her. "I like a darker roast, and no fruity flavors."
"And not that brand," Wes added, pointing over Buffy's shoulder. Two faces turned to stare at him in abject astonishment. "It's too acidic," he mumbled.
Buffy placed her hands on her hips. "How exactly would YOU know?"
Wes sighed and eyed them sheepishly. "As a matter of fact, I prefer coffee," he admitted softly.
The Slayer whooped triumphantly and hopped up and down in excitement. "You are SO going to have to turn in your Big Ben card," she informed him gleefully. Looking to Oz, she added, "We've got an Imperial fugitive on our hands. What should we do with him?"
Oz tilted his head thoughtfully. Placing his hands on Wesley's shoulders he solemnly asked, "Do you pledge allegiance to the flag?"
Wes chuckled and nodded.
"A Statue of Liberty key chain, it is," Oz concluded.
They took Wes' advice on the coffee.
The following morning, Oz awoke to the smell of pancakes. Smiling, he pulled on a pair of drawstring pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Then, he headed to Buffy's room and knocked on the door.
"Kyon, it's 7:30," he called out.
The sound of bedsprings was his only reply.
"Up and at 'em?" he tried.
"Frmurrurrm Mmmf!" she mumbled angrily, kicking the wall to make her point. She pulled the covers over her head in defiance of morning.
Oz chuckled. "Hey, don't take it out on me. It was your idea that I act as your living alarm clock."
A belligerent "G'way," drifted through the door, so he headed to the bathroom to clean up. Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn't emerged.
"Kyyyoonn!" he sang. "Rise and shine!"
"Mmmf."
The Werewolf shook his head. "It's 7:45, if you don't get up now, I'll have to take drastic measures."
Silence.
Two minutes later, he opened the door and jumped on the bed, bouncing up and down to wake her up.
The only word he could decipher of the next five was 'bastard.' She pulled the covers back and glared up at him.
"Morning," he greeted solemnly.
She raised a brow, black and gold locks scattered messily across her pillow. "I hate mornings," she informed him.
He smiled. "Yes, but this one's better than most."
"Why?" Her expression was dubious.
"Because THIS morning has pancakes," he explained.
Buffy's face brightened hopefully. "Pancakes?"
Oz nodded. "Pancakes," he confirmed.
The pancakes were blueberry, and delicious. Apparently, Wes could cook. He'd also made a pot of their new coffee pick, which wafted tantalizingly through the air. The trio gathered on stools around the island counter for breakfast. It was decided that Oz and Wes would accompany Buffy to the Magic Box that day. Wes wanted to see their potential business venture in action, and Oz wanted access to the large supply of books.
At 9:00am, the Magic Box was open for business. Oz sat in a comfy chair in the small library that Jacob had added in the back of the store. He was reading over the texts that Wesley had brought from L.A. There was also a small stack of books that he hadn't previously read with references to Werewolves.
Wes watched Buffy go through her opening procedures and greet the customers that trailed in. She offered him the finance ledgers for the past several years, and he took a seat at a small table to pore over them. He immediately noticed what had drawn Giles into the business. The high revenues made up for the relatively small customer turnover (save for holidays). The shop had a long history of success, and was already up and running, so it posed little financial risk. The only risk was the high mortality rate of its shop owners.
The difference between Wesley and the previous shop owners was that he was already knee deep in the supernatural goings on of the community. So, regardless of his affiliation with the shop, he'd come face to face with the dark forces drawn in by the Hellmouth. His mortality rate would probably DROP for owning this place because it provided access to an extensive network of texts and supplies.
Buffy handled the workings of the shop with ease, taking notes in various ledgers in between helping the customers. Everything would flow more easily with a second person on hand, especially for the busier times, but he was impressed with her businesslike aplomb. The Slayer was a chameleon; she had so many hidden talents that she kept to herself. In short, his quick assessment of the situation was that this was a viable business opportunity.
"May I look at the rest of the records?" he asked.
Buffy nodded, eyeing a customer that was approaching the checkout counter. She handed Wes a key. "This goes to the top file cabinet in the office."
They closed the shop for lunch at 1:00, and sat around a table eating sandwiches from a nearby deli. Oz had finished reading through the texts referring to the old Kuunchadri legend, and Wes had finished going through the files in the office.
"What did you think?" he asked the Werewolf curiously.
Oz swallowed a mouthful of food. "The legend of the Destructors is fascinating and all, but I don't think that's what's happening here. I don't think the real Kuunchadri would send messages to leave town. They'd just wipe everything out."
Wes nodded. "Precisely what I thought. They wouldn't be working for a Sorcerer either." Off Buffy's troubled expression, he added, "But it's good to know we can cross that off our list. It's not the End of Days."
"Just another cheap knockoff," the Slayer mumbled.
The ex-Watcher smiled grimly. "Well, for a bit of good news, I'm interested in the shop."
"Really?"
He nodded. "It seems like too good an opportunity to waste. Now what about this loan business?"
Buffy grinned, face lighting up with excitement. "I'll set up a meeting with Jezza. If all goes well, I'll have Kelley come in one day this week to discuss sale options."
When they were finished eating, Oz asked, "OM time?"
The Slayer agreed. "Sure thing. You wanna join us, Wes?"
He followed them into the training room. "What're you up to?"
Buffy and Oz changed into comfortable clothes and stretched out on the mats, leaving a space for Wes. "Ever since I took over running the shop, I've been closing between 1:00 and 3:00pm to do Slayer stuff, and then staying open later in the evening. There's always a rush from 12:00 to 1:00, when everyone's on lunch break, but after that it's dead until late afternoon. Since Oz showed up, we've been spending the time training."
"Ah, so that's why you had me bring my gear." Wes changed, and then joined them on the floor.
"Did you learn the same meditation techniques as Giles?" Buffy asked.
He nodded.
"Tweedy Watcher's Delux, it is," Oz agreed, settling into position.
Wes glared.
"I'm not responsible for the name," the Werewolf defended.
Wes transferred his glare to Buffy.
"That's not what it's called?" she asked innocently.
He gracefully arranged his body from years of practice. "You may have made me memorize the all the counties of California last night, but I still take offense to slanders on the mother country."
She raised a brow. "Could you BE any more British?" she wondered aloud.
Wesley smiled proudly. "Precisely."
"I think your Britishness is threatened by your extensive knowledge of coffee products," Oz interjected.
That evening they patrolled their way to Jezza's Place. Buffy stepped up to the door, and then paused to meet their eyes before turning the knob.
"At Jezza's, you don't knock," she explained. "You just open the door and walk in. If she's home and wants to see you, you'll walk into her inner sanctum. If not, you'll end up somewhere else. Usually if she's not home, you just wind up in an empty version of this building. But Jezza's Place is legend in the demon world. There are stories of vamps that tried to enter and wound up in the desert at high noon."
"Charming," Wes commented dryly.
They entered the building and (thankfully) found a sitting room. It was decked out with the same glowing lights as the salon they'd been in a week ago. Mosaic tiles covered the walls here, too, but the dominant color of the moving images was purple rather than green. Several loveseats were fashioned around a fountain in the center of the room. The glowing lights built into the fountain turned the flowing water into a dazzling display of soothing colors.
Jezza floated into the room in a shimmery, mint-green silk dress that ended just above her bare feet. Her rainbow colored hair fell in waves down her back, and her amethyst eyes glimmered as she smiled in greeting.
"Welcome Kytonar, Master Zebinchak, Master Nokvardamar," she intoned.
"Thanks for having us, Jezza," Buffy replied with a happy grin.
"It's lovely to see you again," added Oz.
"Nokvardamar?" Wes questioned. "I don't recognize that word."
Jezza met his eyes, which were glowing emerald green in the magical lighting. "You are a Watcher-Mage, are you not?"
"As a matter of fact, I am," he replied, nonplussed.
"That is what it means in the Common Tongue. I am Jezzakavardamar, but you may call me Jezza." She gestured to the couches. "Please, have a seat and tell me why you have come."
Buffy spoke up first. "Nokie and I have a business proposition we'd like to discuss with you." She winked at Wes, and he rolled his eyes at the butcher job she'd done on his name.
Jezza chuckled at their antics. "Go on."
"Nokie used to be my Watcher," Buffy explained.
She raised a brow. "I take it this is not the one that moved back to England?"
The Slayer smiled. "Nope. His human name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and I stole him away from his employer in L.A."
"Ah," she nodded, putting the pieces together. "He is the contact that you mentioned at the meeting."
"Right." Buffy took a deep breath. "I asked Wes to be my partner, for Hellmouth stuff and for business stuff."
The Sorceress scrutinized the ex-Watcher. "A wise choice, Kyon," she approved.
The two partners exchanged a glance before Buffy continued. "You know that I've been running the Magic Box since Jacob died, and that his daughter is selling it."
"Yes."
"What I didn't tell you is that Kelley told me I get first dibs if I want to buy the place; it's in Jacob's will. I proposed to Wes that we buy it."
Jezza nodded. "That is a sound plan. The Magic Box does good business. But, what does this have to do with me?"
The Slayer met her eyes seriously. "We would like you to give us a business loan to make the purchase. Neither one of us has the collateral to get a bank loan, but we're very qualified. Wes has a business degree from the Watcher Academy, not to mention degrees in research and occult objects. I've been working at the Magic Box for three years, and I've been affiliated with it for five. Jacob taught me how to do everything, and I've been running it successfully by myself for almost a month with no loss of revenue. It's a well oiled machine, and poses little financial risk." She trailed off, looking hopefully up at Jezza.
"Alright, you have made your pitch," Jezza said with a smile. After a moment's thought, she said, "You speak with Kelley and get some actual numbers for me, and then we will talk. Sound good?"
Buffy jumped up and hugged her enthusiastically. "That sounds great! Thank you thank you thank you!"
"Do not thank me yet," Jezza smirked.
Wesley spoke up. "I've got a separate question for you, if you don't mind."
She nodded.
"In your opinion, are the Kuunchadri teleporting THEMSELVES in and out of this dimension or is it the Sorcerer they're working for?"
Jezza paused thoughtfully. "A very powerful Sorcerer could do this, but only on a Hellmouth where the walls between dimensions are thin. I think that this is more likely than the first choice."
They walked for a while in silence, thinking over what they'd learned.
"How would the Sorcerer be able to coordinate multiple attacks at once in different locations?" Buffy mused.
"Perhaps the demons are in charge of the attacks, and the Sorcerer only transports them," Wes suggested.
Oz frowned. "Can the Sorcerer transport them each individually, or would it have to be an all or nothing deal?"
Buffy stopped short. "Oz, that's brilliant!"
"Huh?"
She tugged them impatiently the rest of the way home. As they entered the house, Buffy mentally checked the wards to make sure they didn't need beefing up. Satisfied, she cleared off the dining room table and pulled out the map she'd made of Sunnydale. There were colored pushpins in a seemingly scattered pattern across its surface.
"I put in a pin to mark the location of each Kuunchadri attack," she explained, "But we need to be more specific than that."
"What do you mean?" Wes asked.
She pulled a notebook from the pile she'd cleared off the table, and started pulling pins from the map. "We need a separate colored pin for each day."
"Precisely," Wes nodded, catching on. "That way we can see the attack pattern for each day, and also see if the daily patterns are moving in a specific direction."
"Or around a specific central location," Oz added.
She started to pace back and forth as she worked it out. "We need to figure out from the witness testimonies not just WHERE the Kuunchadri were sighted, but also WHEN. I took notes on what each witness said, but I didn't think to ask specifically what time the demons disappeared. If we can put it all together, we might be able to figure out if they're transported individually or en masse."
"Then we can stake out the likely location for their next visit," the ex-Watcher concluded with a smirk.
Oz smiled. "And enact our Super Secret plan involving whips and chains."
"Right!" Buffy exclaimed. Then her face fell. "And then once we've captured one, the Sorcerer can just blink it back to safety…"
"Maybe," Wes admitted. "But it's worth a try."
While Oz and Wes fixed the map by using a different color pushpin for each day, Buffy called Grachen.
"Hey, Lady Kyon, what's happenin'?" he greeted.
She smiled, hearing voices in the background. "Not much. Sounds like a party." She pouted. "Why wasn't I invited?"
"If there was a party, you'd be first on my invite list," Grach promised. "They're just checkin' on Pan."
"And traveling in groups of the multiple kind, not the singular kind, right?" she confirmed.
He chuckled. "Yeah, Ky, no one came alone. So what do you need?"
"Just wanted to check on you guys. How's Pan?"
"We're good. Pan's sittin' up and eatin' solids like a real boy," he replied.
"I'm glad. I'll be by tomorrow to visit, OK? I've got more calls to make."
Grach smiled. "See ya, Kyon."
Buffy made six more phone calls before returning to the dining room. Oz and Wes were scrutinizing the newest version of the map.
"I put the district leaders in charge of getting more specific testimony from anyone that came in contact with the Kuuchadri," she explained. "They're gonna get back to us tomorrow."
Wes nodded. "Take a look at this," he instructed. "While we certainly need more data, there's a clear pattern forming already."
"It looks like they're appearing in a different section of the warehouse district each night," Oz murmured.
Buffy smiled grimly. "That's partly why they've been hard to find. I've been patrolling all of Sunnydale, including the docks and the cemeteries. I figured since the demons were dimension hopping, a cemetery would be a nice, secluded place to pop out in."
"Apparently they don't care about being seen," Wes observed. "They just don't want to be seen by you."
She pointed to a spot on the map. "That looks like the next logical place they'd show up, right?"
"Yes, if they stick to the pattern."
Buffy glanced at the clock and sighed. It was very late, but existing on little sleep was something she was used to. "OK, so we know where. Hopefully the district leaders will give us some info on when, so we can do a stakeout tomorrow night." She ran a hand through her hair. "What we need to figure out is how to capture one of these demons."
"Like chains?" Oz offered.
She met his eyes and laughed, despite her fatigue. "Yes, Your One-Track-Mindedness. Like chains." She paused. "But I don't know if that'll be enough."
"Oh!" Wes brightened. "You want some sort of mystical trap, correct?"
"Yep," she confirmed.
He nodded; already gazing off into the distance as he mentally catalogued which texts might contain the information. "I'll look into it."
Buffy moved over to the window, eying the darkened streets beyond. She sighed weightily and leaned her forehead against the glass. Soft footsteps approached from behind, and a pair of gentle hands massaged the back of her neck.
"Heavy thoughts?" Oz murmured. He acted on instinct and ran a hand up her neck and into her silky hair.
"Mmmm," she murmured appreciatively, loving the soothing sensation of fingers rubbing her scalp. "I was wondering why all my plans have to hinge on sheer, dumb luck."
"Luck, maybe," Oz conceded. "But not DUMB luck. Smart luck."
She turned to face him, and he allowed his hands to trail down to land on her shoulders. "Smart luck?" she repeated.
He smiled. "Yep."
Their eyes met and held.
"Will you play your guitar?" Buffy asked, when she'd found her voice.
"Sure," he agreed. He moved away to retrieve the instrument and settled into a chair to play. His fingers flew with confidence over the strings, plucking out every song he could think of. Sometimes he sang. Twenty minutes later, Buffy was curled up like a cat at his side, fast asleep.