Liaisons - Act 1

Hanna stared down at her lunch tray. String beans and fish sticks. Probably fish sticks. You could never really be sure until you tried them. She wasn't really looking at the pseudo-food, but past it to that nether world of thoughts and possibilities.

Matt let a little grin slip past. "Earth to Hanna, come in Hanna," she immediately looked up and blushed. "It's not going to become edible just by looking at it," he warned.

"If only," she agreed. "I was just thinking... about stuff."

"Toothy and nocturnal stuff?" He bravely swallowed a mouthful of what was possibly fish.

Hanna closed her eyes. Why did he have to believe her? It wasn't a game, she realized. This wasn't something she could use to her advantage – that thing that had kidnapped her could have just as easily have taken Kirsty or Matt or anyone else... and they didn't have a dad like she did. No, it was too dangerous to be believed.

"Matt," she said, opening her eyes again... And he was still there. Thick mop of blond hair, hanging over his brow, partially concealing his gorgeous, bright blue eyes. He was looking at her that way again. "Matt," she pressed before his gaze could swallow her up, "I hope you didn't believe any of that stuff– uh– that stuff about vampires... you know they don't really exist." She looked down to break away from his piercing eyes. "It's all just made up."

Matt cocked his head. "You don't have to pretend," he said quietly. He got quiet whenever he was talking especially to her, as if a real conversation between them was a secretive thing. "I know the truth. I've known for a long time."

But his words weren't penetrating. The bell rang and she stood, not meeting his eyes. "It's all made up," she insisted, clearing away her unfinished lunch. "I... I made it all up to be popular."

"And the cuts on your arm?" Matt was still sitting. "You did that yourself?"

Hanna frowned. "No!" She turned on him and immediately he had her in his gaze again. "I– I mean, it wasn't vampires... it was... um..."

"Hey," he said quietly, standing and coming around the table. He put his hand on her elbow and she looked down again. She felt like she was being scolded. After all, it was a lie. And only to Matt did the lie sound less likely than the truth. When she finally looked up at him, the cafeteria was nearly empty. He had something hard behind his eyes.

A large part of his mind was urging him to leave. If she couldn't deal with the truth, then she wasn't who he thought she was. But his hand couldn't seem to relinquish her elbow.

"There are scarier things than the truth," he said at last. "Believe me, I know."

She looked up, convinced she could withstand his eyes long enough to get her point across. "But what if—" she was caught off guard when he planted a soft kiss on the corner of her lips. Her mind raced. She wasn't quite sure what to do, but she didn't care at the moment. She hadn't actually thought of what her first kiss would entail, but with her eyes closed and a cute guy delivering it, it seemed perfect. Suddenly the truth was trivial.

--

Addison lifted the Smith & Wesson semiautomatic and took careful aim. Behind his safety glasses, his target appeared to be a sitting duck. Through the earmuffs he could still hear the gun discharge as he let her have it.

With a splintering of wooden crates, each bullet missed. He tracked her, firing at random intervals, shattering more crates. Finally, as the clip was nearing empty, he took aim at a cast iron engine block and fired some shots which ricocheted off towards his target. Each one missed.

With his last shot, the Watcher took out the chain of a hanging light fixture but with a risky back flip, his target avoided this too.

Addison smiled, removing the ear protection and replacing his safety glasses with his bifocals. "Well done," he grinned, walking forward to congratulate the crouching Slayer.

"What?" Niki shouted over the ringing in her own ears. Then she laughed. "Just kidding."

Addison surveyed the damage his bullets had done to the inside of the warehouse, then noticed the damage he had done to her. "Oh dear. It's looks like I got you."

Niki frowned. "What?" She looked down as he fed his finger through the bullet hole in her black leather jacket. "Oh, dammit! This thing's taking a beating." She shrugged off the scarred, torn and now bullet pierced jacket. "You didn't get me though," she argued, noting the lack of bloody wounds as evidenced by her pristine white T-shirt. "And you say you've had some experience with that thing?"

The old Watcher tilted his head. "More than any vampire Goth, I can assure you."

Niki nodded, satisfied. "Well, eventually I'd like to move up to automatic weapons, but first I think I need a break."

"You're not getting tired, are you?" he asked, a little suspiciously.

"No, no," Niki said easily, "I've just been up the last few nights, catching up on some slaying and I can't seem to sleep in the daytime anymore."

"I've got some sleeping pills, if you think they would help," Addison offered, following her to the crate where a water bottle, a towel and a small bucket full of clips was located.

"Nice," she picked up the water bottle from where it lay on its side, a wide hole in each side where one of the ricocheting bullets had struck it. She emptied the last of the water into her mouth out one of the holes and sat down on the crate, closing her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, the warehouse was illuminated in an eerie yellow glow. Addison was gone. With slowly widening eyes, Niki watched as a silhouetted figure emerged from the darkness and took on a form she still remembered, despite the time that had passed.

For several heartbeats, there was silence as the one observed the other. Finally, Joshua Valtaine spoke, his voice cold and emotionless. "He will betray us," he said simply. After a short moment, her father turned and began to walk into the gloom.

"Dad!" she called out, but her eyes shot open and she found herself lying on her back on the warehouse floor. Addison was staring down at her with a frown.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking her elbow and helping her into a sitting position. "You seem to have fainted."

Niki stared at him, unsure for a moment what had happened. She had never had a vision in the middle of the day before. Maybe her all-nighters were screwing things up. Unlike a normal dream, her vision stayed with her a bit longer. He will betray us, dad had said. Who will betray us?

Her eyes met Addison's. No. Never. Of course it was not as though there were that many other "he's" in her life right now. She stood and shook off the eerie feeling which followed from the dreamworld.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I sat down too fast or something." She blinked rapidly. "I think I'll take you up on those sleeping pills."

--

Logan stared down at his latest case file. This one wasn't even trying to disguise himself. Some sort of shaman was accused of sacrificing thirteen virgins and drinking their blood. The prosecution's case was a little sketchy without the actual bodies, but the defendant was tight lipped and his comments seemed to be limited to uttering curses and incantations.

He didn't see her enter until the file came down on his desk. "When you have a minute," Emily, the prosecutor from across the hall, said distantly. "Oh, and Tawnie wants to see you. She sounded pissed."

Logan sighed and stood, dropping his case file and leaving his office for the elevator. He didn't get that far; Tawnie was waiting for him in the elevator lobby.

"Are you narcoleptic?" she asked suddenly as they stood facing each other in front of the wide mirror facing the elevator doors.

"Uh... what?" Logan frowned.

"Do you find yourself falling into a deep sleep suddenly, at inopportune moments?" She sounded like she was going somewhere with this, but Logan wasn't sure where.

"No, not really," he replied uncertainly.

"Then could you explain to me how a vampire slayer managed to walk in and kill your client while you just stood there?" She raised her eyebrows. "Are you a conjurer or aren't you?"

"I... uh... froze up," he said with a frown. "The whole situation sort of... caught me off guard."

"Don't make a habit of it," she said fiercely, stepping into the elevator as its doors opened. "We kept you afloat when all the others were drowning. Don't make us regret it." The doors closed and Logan was left staring at his infinite reflection between the stainless steel doors and the mirror facing them.

What an unpleasant person.

--

Liaisons - Act 2

Hanna had a distant expression on her face as she poured milk over her cereal. She was looking through it. Luckily she noticed before she started pouring milk across the kitchen table.

Logan watched her with rising amusement. It had taken him about ten seconds to figure out why she had been so distracted these past few days. He had the tact to keep it to himself though.

"Dad," she said with a troubled crease on her brow. "Can I talk to you—"

"Nope," Logan said simply, sipping his coffee and returning his attention to the newspaper.

"What d'you mean nope?" she retorted.

"I mean no. Boys don't exist yet. Not until you're sixteen." He cleared his throat and put his empty mug in the sink. "And as much as I appreciate the vote of confidence – it's your mother you should really be talking to about this."

Hanna looked down sullenly. "I already talked to her," she said quietly.

"And?" Logan folded the paper and dropped it back on the table.

"I thought you'd say something different," she glared at him, "but I guess not."

Logan shrugged. "It's a parent thing."

"Well parents are dumb," Hanna argued, throwing her spoon down into her bowl. "It's not fair!"

Logan smiled. "That's how you know it's not fiction." He wandered past a bleary-eyed Rachel, heading towards his jacket. "Honey, tell your daughter she's too young to be dating."

Rachel looked from Logan to Hanna. "You went over my head?" she asked her daughter with exaggerated hurt. "Actually, what's scarier is that you went to Logan for relationship advice."

"I heard that," Logan called from the front hall.

"You guys are such dweebs, all the kids at school are dating!" She crossed her arms sullenly.

"Hear that honey," Rachel called over her shoulder, "we're dweebs."

"I'm crushed," Logan called back. "Hanna, if all the kids at school jumped off a cliff, would you?"

Hanna sneered. "Only if you told me I couldn't."

"Ouch," he laughed and he was gone out the door.

"Mom," Hanna pleaded, sitting down heavily in the chair by her untouched cereal. "He's really nice. He just wants to take me to the movies... his foster mom will even go with us. She'll be, like, a chaperone. What's wrong with that?"

"You're too young to be dating," Rachel insisted, as if repeating the most obvious fact in the world. "And I've never met this boy's— what's his name again?"

"Matt," Hanna answered defensively. "He's really nice. And he's not, like, a football player or a chess geek or a batcaver or anything– he's just normal." She offered her best puppy dog eyes and her mother finally shrugged.

"He sounds really nice," she agreed. "I think you should invite him here for supper."

Hanna was horrified. "Here!?" She shook her head vehemently. "No way!"

"Way," her mother replied with a smile. "If you think you're old enough to date him, then you're mature enough to introduce him to your parents."

Hanna brought her hand down her face with a groan. "Ugh, this is so not even happening."

Rachel smiled, patting her daughter on the shoulder. "Oh, I assure you it is."

--

Niki sat patiently in the small booth in the dark café. Across the room, in another dark corner, was a man. He wasn't really a man, at least, not a human man.

He was dressed in a fine black suit and black silk shirt, sporting a dark red tie. His hair was neatly combed and gelled into place. He held his menu firmly, examining the wine list. He wasn't really hungry, or thirsty for wine, Niki knew. He was watching the customers of the restaurant. Once the sun had set, he would choose a couple or a loner and leave after them – follow them to some deserted street or just force his way into their car... only then would he dine.

As the vampire examined the wine list, his eyebrow went up at the price. As his eyebrow went up, the tattoo of the snake which rose from his neck and seemed to attack his eye opened its mouth wider.

You've really gone into hiding, haven't you? Niki thought to herself. If it weren't for the tattoo she would not have recognized him as the Goth leader she had dealt with more than a month ago. He was finally venturing out into the world again. Idiot.

"Hi, my name's Jesse," a smiling face looked down at her.

"Thanks, I've already ordered," Niki replied, staring intently at her quarry.

The man identified as Jesse laughed. "I'm not a waiter," he said, holding onto his smile. He sat down on the bench across the table from her.

Niki slowly tore her gaze from the former Goth and frowned at the man sitting at her table. He was fairly nondescript. Thick sandy brown hair covering his forehead and a mullet covering the back of his collar. He had dark brown eyes, almost black and a nearly perfect white smile.

"Then why are you at my table?" Niki answered shortly.

Jesse's smile went on and on, like it had its own power source. "I wanted to tell you in person that I'd like to buy you a drink."

The Slayer squinted, as if this might make more sense from a different angle. No chance. "Are you for real?"

"The genuine article," Jesse grinned. He just kept smiling. Niki wanted to punch him in the teeth. That would probably get her kicked out of the café, she knew. "So what are you having?"

"Solitude," Niki said with annoyance.

"Well why don't we share one?" Jesse leaned forward and took the dessert menu from between the salt and pepper shaker. "Are you here for a late lunch or an early supper?"

"I'm meeting someone," Niki lied angrily. What kind of a jerk just sits down at someone else's table?

"You're right; we haven't really met yet have we? I'm Jesse, and you are?"

"Pissed off," Niki said deliberately, trying to look at the Goth without seeming suspicious.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. It's just an innocent drink." Jesse put on a pathetic pleading tone. "Come on, how many guys have offered to buy you a drink in the last month?"

Niki scowled, insulted. "How many girls have told you you're an ass in the last month?"

"You think there's some correlation?" he wondered out loud. He dropped his smile and leaned forward. "Come on, one drink and I promise I'll go away."

"What is your deal?" Niki demanded, "I don't want you to buy me a—"

"Your drink, miss," the waiter set the large lime daiquiri in front of Niki.

"See, I kinda already did," Jesse smiled sheepishly, looking over the large rum cocktail. He turned to the waiter who was still standing there. "Thanks, Henry," he smiled. "Take the rest of the night off."

The waiter perked up. "Hey, thanks Mr. Trent," he left smiling.

Niki blinked. "You said—"

"I said I wasn't a waiter," Jesse had reacquired his grin. "Didn't say I didn't own the place."

Niki sighed, taking a resentful sip of her free daiquiri. "Do you always hit on your customers?"

"Who said I was hitting on you?" Jesse asked, a little offended. "I just wanted to buy you a drink."

Niki looked away from the Goth again and flashed him a skeptical glance. "You expect me to believe that?"

Jesse shrugged, standing from the table. "I said I'd go away, and I will. Have a nice evening..." For the first time he followed her gaze over to the far table. "... and while I'm up, I think I'll have a chat with your friend over there... see why you find him so fascinating."

Niki's eyes widened. "No!" she noticed his intrigued look. "I... mean... you could sit– er, stay if you wanted to." She accidentally threw a glance back towards the Goth and cursed herself in her mind. "I mean... it is your restaurant after all."

A small smile spread across Jesse's face. It was sly, perhaps a little devious. "No, I... think I have just found someone more interesting..."

Niki stood, grabbing his shoulder. "Hey, come on, now..." she racked her brain for the right thing to say. It seemed like ages since she had actually gone after a guy's attentions. "You wouldn't say no when a girl asks for company, would you?"

Jesse considered this, trying to suppress his sly smile. "I suppose it depends on the girl... I mean if she were a total spastic—"

"Oh, come on!" Niki punched him gently in the arm when she realized by his tone he was playing her. He sat back down with a playful snicker. She sat down opposite him, her annoyance replaced by relief. The annoyance, however, soon returned as she looked over and saw the vamp with the snake tattoo was leaving.

Jesse looked over and noticed too, the target of her attention now fully clear. "Will you be leaving then?" he asked with a sigh.

Yes, the Slayer in her answered abruptly. But she was more than a Slayer. With the slow realization that she would have another chance at the Goth another day, she slouched her shoulders as if in defeat and took another sip of her daiquiri. "No, I guess I could stay," she conceded.

"Well don't act so excited," Jesse scoffed. "Mister Snakeface couldn't have been that interesting, after all, look at the skank he's leaving with."

Niki looked up and saw the vamp following a biker chick out of the café's front door. Her internal alarms were going off. This game had to end now.

"Tell you what," Niki stood, sliding some money under the base of the cocktail glass, "you let me walk out of here, no questions asked and without calling me a cab, and I promise you can buy me drinks to your heart's content next week. Deal?" Her eyes were following the back of the vamp's suit as he crossed the café's front window.

Jesse could tell she was serious and his smile disappeared. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, turning with a frown to try and see what she obviously found so disturbing. "Are you okay?"

Niki glanced at him with a hasty shrug. "I'm absolutely perfect – that's why you were hitting on me, isn't it?" And with that she brushed past him and left the café, turning down the street in the direction the vamp and his prey had gone.

Jesse stood at the table with a confused and amused look on his face. He shrugged and let out a single laugh. "Yeah, just perfect."

--

Liaisons - Act 3

Niki followed the vampire affectionately called Snakeface out of the café. He was a few hundred feet ahead of her but in the twilight she could see he was following a slightly disoriented biker chick. The woman was walking with one shoulder against the brick wall and as soon as it ended she found herself on the ground at the entrance to an alleyway. Seconds later, hands were helping her deeper.

Niki broke into a jog to catch up. When she got to the alley entrance, she slowed her footsteps and crept to the edge of the brick. With one confident stride, she stepped out into the open, expecting to see the vamp harassing the girl. The alley was empty.

With a frown she strode into the darkening alley, glancing occasionally behind the dumpsters she passed. She jumped when a door burst open from one of the buildings and a large man exited with two bags of garbage, dumped them in the nearest dumpster then reentered, giving her a suspicious yet dismissive glance.

Niki continued deeper into the alley, her footsteps nearly silent. Six, she counted in her mind, five... four... three... She turned on her heel and faced Snakeface and the biker chick, both sneering at her from behind vampire eyes. The vamp in the black suit looked very annoyed.

"We had a deal," he hissed, jerking his arm up to show her the silver bracelet. His companion did likewise.

Niki winced and nodded in acknowledgment. "Yeah... about that." The Slayer shoved her hands into her pockets. "I did some soul searching, and I realized..." she shrugged, "I lied." She pulled a stake from each pocket and leapt into the air.

As she came at him from above, Snakeface drew a pistol from his suit coat and brought his hands up to take aim. Niki had anticipated this and had leapt for the alley wall, launching herself off of it at shoulder height and spinning in mid air to avoid the bullet. In a flash her foot connected with the gun and it clattered to the ground. She landed in a crouch and finished the twist by sweeping the biker chick's feet from under her.

Niki leapt to her feet again, her fists up, a stake in each. Snakeface snarled, spreading his arms to embrace her in a deadly bear hug. Without warning, Niki punched him between the eyes. His head snapped back and then came forward again with a confused look.

With a determined glare on her face, Niki caught him with a left hook, then struck him again with her right. When he came back again the snake above his eye was bleeding. With a roar he launched himself at her and she ducked the swing, driving her elbow into the back of his knee.

She then turned her attention to the biker chick who was getting back to her feet. Niki quickly grabbed the woman's shoulder and thrust the stake in her left hand between the biker's shoulder blades. She gasped as she fell to the alley floor as dust.

Rough hands took Niki by the arms and spun her around, a violent smack sending the stake in the Slayer's left hand out into the alley. Niki made a stab with the right one, but the vamp pulled back, then struck her across the face.

Niki felt blood at the corner of her lip and bared her teeth. With a shout she drove her fist under the vamp's jaw as hard as she could. He seemed as surprised as she when he was thrown up and backwards into the air.

Niki dropped to her knees and slid her right hand and the stake in it forward, pointed up. Snakeface landed horizontally with a surprised grunt, the stake protruding up between his ribs, poking out his expensive suit. He managed to exhale before he disintegrated.

Niki slowly stood, brushing the dust from her knees and walking towards the discarded gun. Picking it up, she examined it carefully. She then looked to her own weapon of choice, spinning it expertly between her fingers as if she were a cowboy and blowing the dust from its tip. She slid it coolly into her pocket and tossed the gun into the nearby dumpster.

Walking with satisfaction from the alley she was suddenly overcome with her earlier vision. Her father had warned her of a betrayal. Had this been the betrayal? But her vision had said he will betray us. She dismissed it. No. It wasn't her. Maybe it was going to be Snakeface. Not anymore, she mused. Her little self-satisfied smile disappeared as with a rumble of thunder the sky opened up and drenched her with a thin stinging rain.

--

Matt sat looking very uncomfortable in the deceptively warmly lit living room of the Kilpatrick house. His hands were clasped in his lap and he was very preoccupied wishing he had never been born. And this was a boy who knew the power of wishes.

Logan was sitting across from the boy, his gaze harder than nails, his eyes not as hot as they could be, he admitted. Hot enough to melt butter, he judged... maybe cheese. Metaphorically, of course. Logan hadn't entertained, even for a second, the idea of telling this kid the truth about him.

Hanna was listening from another room, Logan knew, probably specifically because he had told her not to. He didn't care. Somewhere he must have offended the divinity which guided the universe: this boy had been invited into his house and Logan had no intention of allowing him to think it was going to be an enjoyable experience.

"Just what are your intentions with my daughter?" Logan said coldly. The lights glinted particularly fiercely off his eyes at that moment.

Matt's bright blue eyes widened. "I– I, uh... I'm thirteen. I don't really have... intentions."

"That's the right answer," Logan replied curtly. "Let me lay down some ground rules, just so there are no misunderstandings in the future. I understand you and my daughter attend the same school. This I cannot be troubled to change, so I will allow you to continue seeing her in that capacity. While you are in my house, however, you will not address her, is that clear?" Without waiting for a response, Logan continued. "If you have anything you need to say to her, you can tell her through me or through my wife. You will address me at all times as Mr. Kilpatrick or sir. My wife you will address as Mrs. Kilpatrick but never ma'am. Is that clear?" Again without a pause for a reply, Logan went on. "To avoid confusion, I am not Mr. Patrick. Mr. Patrick was my neighbor. He's dead now. I am Mr. Kilpatrick. Understood?" Logan took a deep breath and doggedly continued. "If there is an earthquake or some form of volcanic eruption and you are accidentally thrown against my daughter, you have the freedom to say 'Excuse me Miss Kilpatrick.' Otherwise you are not to touch my daughter in any way in my presence. If you want to make a good impression on me, you will avoid making eye contact with her." He finally paused for a good three seconds. "Is that understood?"

Matt licked his lips and nodded. "Yes, sir, Mr. Kilpatrick."

"Any questions?" Logan asked, his tone implying none were welcome.

But Matt was brave. "A- actually yes. I- uh, I was wondering..." He seemed to reconsider the question, then found some new stock of bravado and pressed on. "Are you really, like, magic?"

Logan slowly tilted his head to one side. He took a deep breath as if he had actually considered his response. "Is that what my daughter told you?"

Matt nodded, wide eyed.

Logan's eyes shifted back and forth for a moment, then he leaned in conspiratorially. "Can you keep a secret?"

Matt nodded again, vigorously.

Logan, now that he had Matt's undivided attention, leaned in ever closer, taking a breath as if he was going to divulge a terribly important secret. "No."

There was a moment of uncertainty, then Matt sagged in slight disappointment. "Oh."

Logan nodded. "No, I'm not magic. And that's the secret you're going to have to keep, because if my daughter has staked her reputation on this story, you are not going to do anything to undermine it, are you?" The boy shook his head. "You damage her social status, I damage your kneecaps. You make her cry, I make you cry. You make her lose friends, I make you lose fingers." Logan's eyes narrowed to a glare, "got it?"

Matt nodded and swallowed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all...

Logan stood and extended a rigid hand. Matt jumped to his feet and took the hand that was offered, clenching as hard as he could. As he shook it, he could swear there was an electric charge which seared his hand. The lights dimmed for an instant and the sky rumbled with thunder. As the lights dimmed again, the fierce glint in Logan's eyes remained hot and constant.

Matt's eyes were wide as he looked around, nervously. "Are... are you sure you're not—"

"Good to meet you," Logan said with finality. He released the hand and stalked from the room, the sky grumbling with distant menace.

Matt slowly sat down, massaging his hand. After the lights stabilized again, Hanna hurried into the room, plunking down into the couch beside him. "He said good to meet you," she said optimistically. "I think he likes you!"

Matt slowly turned to look at her, incredulity on his face, as if to ask are you insane?

Hanna shrugged, pulling his hand into hers. "What?" Lightning seared through the night sky with a roar.

--

It was still drizzling when the cool and constant glow of morning found New York with Niki wandering the wet streets. She knew Addison wanted her to meet him at the warehouse, but something was bugging her.

Jesse Trent. There was something about him. Something she couldn't put her finger on. She walked seemingly aimlessly away from her apartment, exactly not towards the warehouse, but only when she looked over to see the alley in which she had killed Snakeface last night did she realize she was only a block away from Trent's, the café.

With a determined frown, she continued towards it, positive there was something wrong with the entire Jesse Trent situation.

--

August 20th, 1981

Niki sat across from Jimmy in the little café, her coffee untouched. "Are you serious?" she asked with elation.

The young man nodded, his eye contact unwavering. It was clear he was interested in more than her skills as a drummer, but she could handle that. "We need a new drummer anyway. Gretchen's not good for our image. She's a total Valley Girl."

"And she hides it behind a getup that screams hamburglar." Niki shook her head.

"I know, it's creepy." Jimmy leaned back in his chair as an older man approached their table.

"Can I get you young people anything else?" He was obviously anxious for them to leave, the two of them being worse for his image than a Valley Girl for Toe Tag City.

"No thanks, Mr. Trent," Jimmy slipped the folded bills directly into the old man's breast pocket. "We were just leaving anyway."

Niki couldn't hide the smile. A drummer in an actual band!

--

Niki set her jaw and walked angrily to the counter of the café where Jesse was writing something on a notepad. He looked up with a surprised and delighted expression which immediately dissolved upon contact with her eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded. One or two customers looked up from their coffees at her raised voice.

Jesse gave them a glance, then took the Slayer's arm and led her further into the front corner of the café, away from occupied tables. "Sorry?"

"Mr. Trent," Niki said deliberately, "is in his sixties. Who are you and what do you want with me?"

Jesse nodded patiently. "Ian Forster Trent was my father. He died two years ago. I took over the business. As to what I want with you..." he raised an amused eyebrow and shrugged.

Niki's eyes fell. Oh. "Uh... sorry about your dad," she managed at last.

Jesse nodded. "Yeah... Maybe if he'd said one word to me the last twelve years of his life then I'd be sorry too. But if you're offering to have coffee with me as consolation, then I can be very distraught."

Niki managed a little smile. She looked up and he was holding an adorable look of hopefulness. Finally she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yeah, sure. I've got no plans anyway."

Jesse grinned widely. He led them to an isolated booth. "Well," he said with a crease in his brow, "you've got my whole family history, I think it's fair if you at least tell me your name."

Niki looked at him for a long moment, examining his every feature, everything that he could possibly be thinking. Somehow her normal Slayer instincts were clouded when she looked at him. "Niki," she said at last, breaking the gaze and wiping her damp palms on her jeans. She realized with chagrin what the feeling was. It had been so long that she hadn't immediately identified the beginnings of simple lust. "Niki Valtaine," she avoided eye contact which made him smile.

"Niki Valtaine," he said with a smile that was nearly a laugh. "Pleased to meet you."

--

Liaisons - Act 4

Niki looked about the alley in the misty yellow light. Shapes, sounds, smells had echoes. Walking across the ground as if it were water, a shape emerged from the cloak of shadow.

Niki opened her mouth to speak but couldn't. Samantha Valtaine stopped just inside the sphere of hazy yellow light. She looked like she did the year she had died. But just like her husband, there was no feeling in her eyes.

"He will betray us," she informed her daughter, before turning and stepping back into the shadow.

"Mom," Niki said quietly. She made no move to follow, knowing she could not. Like everything else in the vision, the stabbing loss echoed painfully through Niki's heart. She awoke with a gasp.

Looking over, her eyes fell across the sleeping form of Jesse Trent. His chest gently rose and fell beneath the rumpled sheet. His eyes were closed and his expression was peaceful. Niki slowly slid her naked form from beneath that same sheet and took her bathrobe from the closet door. Tiptoeing across the room, illuminated in tones of grey in the predawn hours, she winced at the sudden use of certain overused and aching muscles.

She stopped in front of the vanity and examined her weary face. She had known him for only three weeks. She slid one hand up her arm and shivered. It had been worth the wait. This was the first night that Addison had been away, gone back to London for two weeks for a Council meeting and Niki had made sure to take advantage of it.

She let the robe fall to the floor and began to dress, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once she was clothed, she opened the bottom drawer to the chest before her and slid folded pairs of jeans to the side, finding one of the stakes concealed there.

She snatched her beat up leather jacket from the doorknob where she had left it and moved silently out of the apartment, stopping in the kitchen to take the marker from the whiteboard on the fridge and write Be Back Soon.

She gave one last look towards her bedroom before closing the door behind her.

She walked up Park Avenue, letting the smell of the late autumn air clear her mind. Maybe she would walk through the park today.

In the dim light of 4:00 a.m., the first thing she noticed about the group of people following her was their footsteps. With a casual sidestep, she left the sidewalk and entered an alley. They followed.

Niki stood waiting, a good twenty paces into the increased darkness offered by the narrow gap between the buildings. There were a lot more of them than she had anticipated. She would have brought two stakes. And maybe some thermite.

The entire Goth coven had come to find her. Thirty seven vampires, all dressed in black and paler than death in the small amount of light available. They all entered the alley, forming a shoulder to shoulder wall several bodies deep. They appeared very angry.

Niki steeled herself for the opening round of insults and promises of death and pain. Slaying was as much an exercise in wit as it was a physical battle, although, Niki admitted, she had yet to actually win a battle with witty comebacks alone. She gripped the stake tightly.

One of the female vamps took a few steps forward, her lips black and her left eyebrow completely silver with piercings. She appeared small enough, but she had the confidence of a second in command having suddenly found herself in charge. With a bitter expression, she reached into her flowing dark coat and took out a small silver Beretta. The Goths behind her retrieved their own firearms, various sizes from subcompacts to revolvers to sawed off shotguns.

The Goth chick glared at Niki with a cold and terrible hatred. "We're through with you, bitch."

Niki tensed, ready to dive for cover or leap into the air. She was completely unprepared for what came next. With infinite bitterness, the Goth before her tossed her gun to the ground with a clatter. One by one, then two by two, the vamps behind her followed suit, tossing their weapons to the pavement. Among the clattering of the gunmetal was the clink of thirty seven silver bracelets hitting the pavement.

The look of intense bitterness pervaded the entire assembly as they began to leave the alley, stepping over the scattered weapons. The chick who had obviously made this unpopular decision was the last to leave, glaring at the Slayer all the while her coven dispersed into the early morning.

"You're full of shit," she said spitefully, "we're going to Cleveland." The Goth turned on her heel and stormed out of the alley, leaving the thoroughly stunned Niki crouching in the darkness.

Blink. "Uh... what?"

--

Logan frowned as he turned the page. Not only was his new firm aware of his supernatural skills, they encouraged it. A copy of Vox Vocis Incendia had been left on his desk and Logan was finally getting around to reading it. He was on chapter sixteen and it had so far cleverly disguised the fact that it was teaching him how to set people on fire with correct words and intonation. Anyone who didn't know that that was what it was saying... wouldn't know that that's what it was saying.

He shifted his shoulders on the headboard of the bed, leaning a little closer to the reading lamp as the last rays of the sun disappeared. The house was quiet. Hanna was out at a friend's house, theoretically a female friend, but Logan knew it was Matt's place. The boy had resolved that since he could virtually not even breath in Logan's presence, he was going to remove Hanna from her own home as often as possible.

Logan finally looked up to the doorway to the bedroom when the silhouette of Rachel remained there for an uncomfortably long period of time. His frown deepened. "Hi, honey," he said with worry in his eyes. "What is it?"

"Tell me again where you got that bracelet," she said quietly, her arms hugged across her chest. She didn't make a move to enter the bedroom.

Logan blinked. "Uh... what?" His stomach turned.

"You told me it was a Medic Alert bracelet– that you were allergic to haloperidol." She tightened the embrace of her own arms. "Haloperidol is an antipsychotic."

Logan's eyes fell. He didn't even know where he had left the bracelet. Stupid, little, piece of—

"There's no reason for an EMT to give you haloperidol, so there's no reason to have a Medic Alert bracelet warning of an allergy to it." She continued to look at him as he tried futilely to think of some other excuse. She knew him well enough to know that's what he was doing. "Who gave you that bracelet?" she asked in the same quiet tone.

Logan's attention snapped up again. "It's not what you think," he defended hotly. At least that wasn't a lie.

"What do I think?" she asked quietly.

"She... she was in some trouble and I helped her out of it," Logan tried to explain in terms of any normal person's sense of reality. Of course, any normal person would be quick to point out the sex.

"Who is she?" Rachel asked, fighting to remain calm.

"You wouldn't know her," wrong answer, Logan clenched his teeth as soon as he finished saying it. Well done, moron, he cursed as her tone grew sharp with anger.

"Who is she?" Rachel demanded, uncrossing her arms and taking an angry step towards the bed where Logan still lay with the book in his hands.

He slowly put the book down and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He measured his breath carefully, resolved to think carefully about his answers from now on. "Her name is Niki," he said quietly.

Rachel crossed her arms again compulsively, shifting her weight uncertainly to the other foot. The next question was obviously difficult to bear. "Did you sleep with her?"

Logan kept his eyes on her and thought for a long moment about his answer. Three seconds and Rachel looked away, her eyes glittering in the lamplight. She brought a hand to her eyes and turned for the door again.

"It's over," Logan said weakly, his eyes dropping to the floor.

She turned on him, the anger in her eyes and voice again. "It fucking better be!" Though her eyes were still red from tears, her demeanor had gone from betrayed to accusing. She held up a trembling finger as she took another step closer to him. "If you ever see her again—"

Logan swallowed and nodded once. For once he was telling her the truth. He could live with never seeing Niki again. From where he now sat he couldn't imagine why he had done it in the first place. Niki hadn't considered him anything more than a convenience. He shuddered to think of what his stupid juvenile desires had risked. Hanna and Rachel were what mattered.

As she turned to go, he glanced regretfully towards the book he had been reading. She must know every word.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight," she tossed back bitterly as she left the room.

--

Niki wasn't sure what the universe was playing at, but the rules of the game kept getting more and more screwed up. The Goths had... surrendered? Was that what she should call it? The Slayer wasn't really interested in a live and let... un-live policy when it came to vampires. She wanted them dead and that was all there was to it. But she obviously wasn't going on a field trip to Cleveland just to take out a Goth coven. You're not allowed to surrender, Niki insisted to herself, it's not good for my image! What was the score up to now? She'd fought them, fought beside them, negotiated peace treaties with them, broken those treaties, fought them again and now reluctantly accepted their surrender and allowed their retreat. Any history book might think she was fighting the Soviets.

Niki looked now at her one redeeming victory. Harrison was breathing on his own, but still solidly in his coma. His hair had covered the scar across his scalp. She was unable to do anything but look at him. She drew a lock of her own hair from her face and leaned in closer, listening to his breathing. It was calming. Unlike her own breathing. What was he thinking in that infinite playground behind his eyes? Was he thinking about her? Did he think of her as his arch nemesis? Was he plotting?

She leaned in closer, trying to see through his eyelids to the images which he replayed over and over. The smile returned to her face. Poor little man. He had had the misfortune of finding his way into a completely new world. Her world. A brave new world of evil he had never encountered before. She had led him there, like a cruel parody of Alice's White Rabbit. And he would never tell a soul what he knew.

--

Jesse quickly pulled the drawer from its recess in the dresser, turning it over and spilling the contents to the floor. With practiced hands he rummaged through the growing pile of clothes, searching.

He turned over a pair of jeans and several long objects were exposed on top of the pile. He paused, initially thinking they were something entirely different. Upon closer examination, they were made of wood and were pointed. His hand slowly reached for one, lifting it into the harsh light of his determined gaze.

This particular stake was covered in dried blood.