Chapter 51.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

(JULY 4, 1999)

MICK ST. JOHN'S P. O. V.

Josef Kostan and I had over twelve hours to kill, while waiting for the fireworks display in San Pedro Harbor to start. So, I spent most of that time explaining what had transpired up in Frisco. . .including the aftermath. And the only time he interrupted me is when he had a point-clarifying question to ask. For example:

"Who was this Oliver Seidel?"

"A Setite-ghouled physics professor who had a tendency to cast a certain banishment spell every time one of his college students showed the potential for earning a bigger scientific reputation than his own! According to a note she left for Giles, while she was alone in the master bedroom of your hotel suite, she'd received a vision about this guy from the Powers That Be. So, after she was finally snapped out of her trance, she decided to kill two birds with one stone. Or, rather, to have Angel kill him."

Kostan grinned: "I get it! When Angel drained him, he gained the blood memories necessary for casting that spell, himself."

I nodded, before continuing.

"As for Ethan's sudden conversion to the side of good? Strictly self-interest. In his words; 'it would be boring to try and cause chaos on a dead world!' So, he used his diablerized power of fae-glamor to disguise himself as Dr. Death, while similarly passing off Kat Corrigan as a mystic amalgam of Buffy and Angel. Thereby lulling Glordelia into a false sense of security!"

"Speaking of whom," replied Josef: ". . .where did those two star-crossed lovebirds go?

Here, I could only frown and shrug.

SOMEWHERE IN PYLEA (ONE WEEK EARLIER)

Angel and Buffy had naturally been a little disoriented when they first landed. But, they quickly overcame that, whereupon they noticed that they had landed in what looked to be a clearing within a small woodland of some kind. A clearing upon which two suns beat down!

"I won't say anything about Kansas, if you don't," said Buffy, with a mischievous smile.

Angel smiled right back: "Deal!"

Their smiles vanished, however, when they heard the thunderous hoofbeats approaching. So, they quickly climbed up into a nearby tree. And, from that vantage point, they watched as a young woman came running into view. A young, barefoot woman with long brown hair; matching brown eyes; and about Buffy's age. Yet, wearing a set of rags that resembled nothing less than a modified potato sack. Not to mention; an iron collar that not only encircled her neck. But, which also had a small length of broken chain dangling from it!

The young woman's pursuers, on the other hand, were much more eye-catching. In addition to wearing sleeveless leather vests (with matching trousers and boots), beneath hooded black cloaks, they also had green-skinned faces. . .

. . .with horn-like protuberances on their foreheads! !

In the end of course, the horses outdistanced the fleeing woman on the straight-away. Allowing her pursuers to laughingly surround her.

"No more running, cow!" exclaimed the one apparently in charge: "We don't want you becoming all skin-and-bones before the Bach-Nal."

"Yes," one of his comrades gleefully shouted: "You require enough fattening up as it is!"

Buffy's angry glare, as the rest of the horseback-riding demons joined in the uproarious laughter, was positively chilling.

"Angel; are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The ensouled vampire grinned: "Let's do it."

Five minutes later, they introduced themselves to the astounded woman. And, having been raised to respond in similarly polite fashion, she replied:

"I'm Winifred Burkle. 'Fred' to my friends."

MICK ST. JOHN'S P. O. V.

"What about the Green Lama?" Josef now asked: "How did you explain his death to the local cops?"

I replied that Daedaulus had guided Sonny, Oz, and myself back to his lair beneath the Haven. With Daedalus carrying Jethro Dumont's body as gently as possible. Once Sonny got up to Prince Julian's office, he gave a brief summary of what had happened. Which was followed by a phone call to his partner, Frank Kohanek.

"Frank will intercede with the local Legacy House to have Dumont's body flown back to Tibet for proper burial," I continued: "As for Buffy's friends? Well, Xander, Kat Corrigan, and this redhead named Amy Madison hitchhiked to a nearby payphone. Notifying Giles that Kat was alright, and asking him to convey as much to her mother. You see, once Glordelia was yanked into that interdimension portal, Ethan Rayne escaped. Shimmered his ass right out of there!"

"In any event, the whole bunch of them- -Giles, Xander, Willow, Oz, and Amy- -are now back in Sunnydale. They had to make arrangements to bury Buffy's mother, you see. Or, rather, the half of her that Ethan had left behind! The other half- -the one that died while in Dracula and Drusilla's custody- -was buried, in San Francisco, under her maiden name."

"How about those two spell parchments that Glordelia was trying so hard to steal?" asked Josef: "Did someone have the good sense to put a match to them once they were no longer needed?"

I shook my head: "Magga took them away with her, along with the Ferrula Geminiarum (which the Charmed Ones found in the backseat of that wrecked Escalade). When they protested, the same way you did, she reminded them that magic- -like any other kind of power- -isn't good or evil in itself. It's only what the magic is used _for_ that can be classified that way!"

Josef snorted in cynical disagreement: "A rather naive philosophy, if you ask me."

I shrugged, again: "The point's moot. As soon as Magga teleported away, the Charmed Ones found something else demanding their attention."

HALLIWELL MANOR (ONE WEEK EARLIER)

Prue opened the door, and found a trio of men standing on the front porch. One apparently in his late thirties, or early forties, with curly gray hair and matching beard. The other two, in their late teens or early twenties.

"Excuse me," said the fairer-haired of the latter: "Are you one of the Charmed Ones?"

"I beg your pardon?" Prue responded, doing her best to look like she did not know what he was talking about.

"Please, help me," the young man persisted: "I live in the same apartment house as Eunice St. Clair (a semi-retired wizardess of the Verbenae). And, she said you were the only ones who might have enough mystic power to help her get these two home to their respective parallel-universes! Meet Colin Mallory. . ."

The darker-haired young man (to Prue's left) nodded.

". . .and Sirius Black."

The older man (to Prue's right) gave a courtly half-bow. And, despite the grimness on all three of their faces, Prue could not help smirking.

"Sirius Black, huh? I guess that would make you. . ."

"I know what you're going to say," the first young man interrupted: "But, believe it or not, I really was born. . .Harry Potter, Junior!"

MICK ST. JOHN'S P. O. V.

"What about the Key?" asked Josef: "Are you telling me that, after all that fighting and killing, this mystical McGuffin that everybody was after, so desperately, never got corporealized, at all?"

I shrugged: "Not to my knowledge."

SOUTH BAY SOCIAL SERVICES,

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

(ONE WEEK EARLIER)

"Excuse me. Are you Paige Matthews?"

The beautiful brunette social worker looked up from her paperwork.

"Yes, sir! How may I help you?"

The middle-aged man with graying blond hair flipped open the identification with his gold detective's shield.

"Inspector Nash Bridges, SFPD. You left a message with one of my people concerning my niece?!"

"Oh! Yes. Do you happen to know a man named Hank Summers?"

Nash nodded: "Yeah. He recently married my ex-wife's sister. And his daughter is staying with my father and me while those two honeymoon in Spain!"

Paige frowned: "Well, do you have any way we can get in touch with him? Because, we just received word that his first wife died, suddenly, down in Sunnydale. An aneurysm, according to the local hospital."

Nash's initial reaction was stunned silence. Then, he looked down at the floor, while simultaneously shaking his head and massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, Dawn," he sighed to himself: "You poor kid!"

MICK ST. JOHN'S P. O. V.

Josef's next question concerned Sunnydale (or, as he referred to it; ". . .that hick town up near Santa Barbara").

"Who's going to keep all those Caitiff in line, there, with no Slayer in residence?"

"Well, as Giles explained it to me," I replied: ". . .Willow Rosenberg will stay through the summer. Using her white witchcraft to aid the rest of the Scooby Gang while simultaneously bringing her fellow Wiccan- -Amy Madison- -back up to speed, magically speaking. That way, when Willow joins Oz on the next leg of his rock tour, this fall, the Scoobies won't be too short-handed in the Evil Monster-Slaying Department. And it should help matters, further, that the Watchers' Council has recently rehabilitated another Slayer who's been comatose for close to a year, now!"

THE DOLL HOUSE,

LOS ANGELES, CALIF.

(ONE WEEK EARLIER)

The young brunette woman woke up. The first thing she noticed (after her ensemble of red tank top and denim blue jeans) was the blonde, thirty-something woman staring at her. The latter's blue eyes accentuated by steel rim glasses. Her hair done up in a bun. And, her own ensemble consisting of a gray blazer (with matching midi-skirt); white blouse; and white high-heels.

"Good morning, my dear!" exclaimed the blonde: "How are you feeling, today?"

"Much better, thank you."

"Including your memory?"

The brunette nodded.

"Then, what's your name?" persisted the blonde.

"Tru Davies," the brunette replied: "The Vampire Slayer."

"And, who am I?"

"Lydia Lehane; my Watcher."

Lydia's smile became a shamelessly toothy grin.

"Oh, yes. You've definitely improved!"

MICK ST. JOHN'S P. O. V.

"What about the Frisco Conclave?" asked Josef: "Who's going to fill the vacant Ventrue seat?"

"Beats me," I said: "Nick Knight's widow might be the first candidate approached. But, personally, I don't see her giving up medical science (she teaches a night course at UCSF) for political science. One thing's for sure, though. The vacancy won't be filled by anymore of Drac's stooges! Not with both him and Drusilla having been fried to a crisp."

SEWERS OF SAN FRANCISCO

(ONE WEEK EARLIER)

Sarpedon the Celerity Demon ground his heels to a halt. Dropping the heavy red carpet he had been carrying, over his right shoulder, to the floor of the hidden chamber he currently stood within. He then grabbed the loose end of that carpet, towards the middle, in a strong two-handed grip before running backwards for one second. Thereby revealing the source of the carpet's considerable weight.

A badly sunburnt vampiress who was still moaning in pain.

"Aw!" cooed Lorelai of the Daughters of Cacophony: "The poor little thing."

"She'll regenerate better once she's fed on someone, My Queen," replied the business-suited male vampire standing to her right.

"Save the small talk!" Sarpedon curtly snapped: "Just give me my money, so I can go."

The male vampire looked at Lorelai, who nodded. The former then dug out his wallet and handed over a cashier's check made out to the amount of nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. To this, Lorelai personally added a copper penny.

"Ten thousand dollars," she grinned: ". . .as agreed."

Sarpedon did not even waste breath telling them what he thought of their so-called joke. He just glared at them. Then, he pocketed the check (and the coin) before rocketing off. Whereupon, the business-suited vampire looked at Lorelai.

"With your permission, My Queen, I will leave Drusilla in your capable hands, while I go to keep my interview with Prince Julian."

Lorelai semi-absently nodded and waved, as she knelt down to cradle Drusilla in her arms.

THE HAVEN (24 HOURS LATER)

"It's unanimous, then," summarized Julian Luna: "Jospeh Rowan- -CFO of the DeBrabant Foundation- -is now acting primogen of the Ventrue Clan. Welcome to the Conclave, Rowan!"

MICK ST. JOHN'S P. O. V.

"Now, answer _me_ a question," I said: "With Angel having gone Cain Knows Where, has Cyrus called off the bloodhunt?"

Josef nodded: "He's satisfied that he'll never see Angel again, this side of his own Final Death. So, things should be relatively peaceful, among the L. A. Kindred, for the foreseeable future. Now, do be quiet, as the fireworks are finally starting!"

LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA

(ROUGHLY THAT SAME MOMENT)

Eli Chelarin chuckled to himself, as he listened to the younger "Carpathian-Americans" uttering the requisite "oohs" and "ahs" over each burst of the fireworks over their heads (they were watching the display from the roof of the local Sokol Hall). But, as he looked at each of their faces, he saw one who was not smiling. Indeed, he was frowning in what appeared to be somber preoccupation!

"What's wrong, Butcher Bird?"

The youngster looked up with a start and blushed.

"Forgive me, Primogen. I don't mean to be a party pooper. But, earlier this evening, I learned that a Slayer wiped out our entire Huntington Beach chapter, last month! Aided by a good-for-nothing Toreador named Michael St. John!"

Now it was Eli's turn to grow somber.

"Where did this happen?"

"In Sunnydale; a town somewhere near Santa Barbara, I think."

Eli pondered this for a few seconds. Then, he nodded.

"We will do our best to enjoy the rest of the fireworks, tonight. Tomorrow, however, I shall go see Prince Cyrus about declaring a bloodhunt against

Mr. Saint John!"

THE END?

Postscript: so ends my salute to the legendary City By The Bay and all the (criminally under-rated) television shows set and/or filmed there during the last twenty-five years. I just want to include some final notes.

"Lynnette Summers (nee Crandall)" was a recurring character played by actress Suki Kaiser during the 1998 season of the CBS crime drama, NASH BRIDGES.

CFO = Chief Financial Officer.

UCSF (University of California, San Francisco) is one of the most prestigious medical schools in northern California.