Chapter 10: Trespass

Dawn tracked the scent of blood to the east fence line. As they got closer, something else overpowered the smell of blood. Something worse. Decomposing flesh.

They came to a low wooden bridge that crossed a stream. Once on the other side Dawn lost the scent. She backed up and found that it came from under the bridge. Buffy followed her sister's gaze and saw a bare foot, bloated, gray toes pointing at the sky.

Buffy hurried down to the foot and knelt in the icy water of the stream. She found a body of a young boy that reminded her of Warren Mears when Willow had killed him for killing Tara. He was practically skinless. She could tell that the boy hadn't been killed here. That he had been killed elsewhere as there was no sign of blood. She said a silent thank you to Dawn as she remembered when Dawn had given her that bit of knowledge, when they had dealt with the demon called Gnarl.

"We'll have to dispose of it," Jeremy said. "Leave it for now. We'll go back to the house—"

A crash in the bushes stopped him short. Buffy yanked her head from under the bridge her Slayer senses on full alert. Someone was trampling through the undergrowth like a bull rhino. "Go," Buffy whispered but neither Dawn nor Jeremy listened as she rinsed her hands in the stream and scrambled up the bank. She was barely at the top when two men in bright orange hunting vests burst from the forest.

"This is private property," Jeremy said as the two men jumped and spun around. "I said, this is private property."

One man, a stout kid in his late teens, stepped forward. "Yeah, then what are you doing here, buddy?"

The older man grabbed the kid's elbow and pulled him back. "Excuse my son's manners, sir. I'm assuming you're …" He trailed off, searching for a name and coming up blank.

"I own the property, yes," Jeremy said as a man and a woman came up behind the two.

"Yes, sir, the man said. "I understand you own this land, but you see, we've got ourselves a bit of a situation. I'm sure you heard about that girl that got killed a few days ago. Well, it's dogs, sir. Wild dogs. Big ones. Two of our boys from town saw them last night attacking a woman. Then we got a call this morning, saying something had been spotted on the far side of the woods out here around midnight."

"So you're conducting a search," Jeremy said.

The man straightened. "Right, sir. So, if you don't mind—"

"I do mind."

The man blinked. "Yes, but you see, we've got to check things out and—"

"Did you stop at the house to ask permission?" Jeremy asked.

"No, but—"

"Did you phone the house to ask permission?" Jeremy interrupted.

"No, but—"

"Then I'd suggest you go back the way you came and wait for me at the house," Jeremy continued. "If you want to search these woods, you need permission. Under the circumstances, I certainly don't mind granting that permission, but I don't want to worry about running into armed men when I'm taking a walk on my own property."

"We're looking for wild dogs," the woman said. "Not people."

"In the excitement of the hunt, any mistake is possible," Buffy said remembering Faith's mistake. Faith had in the excitement of the hunt accidentally killed the deputy mayor of Sunnydale. It had of course had a profound effect on her sister. So much so that Faith had briefly slipped to the dark side.

"Since this is my land," Jeremy added, "I choose not to take that chance. I use these woods. My family and my guests use these woods. That's why I don't allow hunters up here. Now, if you'll go around to the house, we'll finish our walk and meet you there. I can provide you with maps of the property and warn my guests to stay out of the forest while you're here. Does that sound reasonable?"

"What the hell is going on here?!" Clay said as he barreled out from the forest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"They're looking for wild dogs," Jeremy said softly.

"Did you miss the fucking signs on the way in?" Clay snarled. "Or is trespassing too goddamned many syllables for you?"

"Clayton," Jeremy warned.

Clay didn't hear him. "This is private property," he said. "Do you understand what that means?"

Jeremy started down from the bridge with Dawn and Buffy at his heels. They were halfway across the clearing when a sound trumpeted from the woods. A baying hound. A dog on a scent and the scent was leading them right to them.

The dog flew from the forest heading straight for them, eyes unseeing, brain bound up with the smell. It got within a yard of them, and then skidded to a halt. Now it smelled something else.

Buffy.

Dawn took a whiff and frowned. Not only could she smell the unique scent of the Slayer, but she could smell the scent of decomposing flesh that had soaked into Buffy's clothes.

The dog looked at Buffy and pulled back its lips in a deep growl as it caught the scent it had been following. Dawn met the dog's eyes and bared her teeth trying to get it to attack her instead. It did. The dog leapt. Its teeth clamped around Dawn's forearm.

"Dawn!" Buffy yelled.

Dawn fell to the ground, lifting her arms over her face as if protecting herself. The dog held on tight. As its teeth sunk into her arm, she cried out in pain. Buffy tore the dog away, jerking Dawn's arm with it. Then the dog went limp. Its teeth fell from her arm. She looked up to see Buffy standing over her, hands still wrapped around the dead dog's throat. And then Dawn saw it in Buffy's eyes, a glint. She knew what it meant to see that glint in her sister's eye, that the Slayer was in control of her sister.

"Jeremy," Dawn whispered low enough so the hunters couldn't hear. Jeremy followed her gaze and then nodded indicating that he saw it.

Jeremy quickly whispered to Clay telling him to get Buffy out of there. Then he turned toward the hunters and demanded to know who owned the dog and whether its shots were up to date. The searchers' voices drowned out one another as they babbled apologies. Someone tore off to find the dog's owner.

"Come with me, Buffy," Clay said. It was the use of her name that caused the glint to leave her eyes as she let him drag her back toward the house. "Let's get back to the house so we can call a doctor for Dawn?"

Dawn stayed on the ground as she pretended to cry. She didn't want to risk that the searchers would see that her eyes were dry and that she was remarkably composed for a woman savaged by a vicious beast.

After a few minutes, the dog's owner arrived. He promised to pay for medical bills, probably fearing a lawsuit. Jeremy gave him a dressing-down over letting his dog run unleashed on private property. When Jeremy finished, the man assured him that the dog had all its shots, and then quietly hauled away the carcass with the help of the younger man. This time, when Jeremy asked them all to leave the property, no one argued. When the chaos finally fell to silence, Dawn got to her feet.

"How's the arm?" Jeremy asked, walking toward her.

Dawn examined the injury. There were four deep puncture wounds, still seeping blood, but the tearing was minimal. She clenched and unclenched her fist. It hurt like hell, but everything appeared to be in working order. She wasn't too concerned. Like Slayers, werewolves healed quickly.

"Yet another war wound," Dawn said. She remembered her first war wound, the scars that lined her stomach where the demon had cut her for Glory's ritual. She didn't count the scar from the self-inflicted wound on her arm as a war wound, where she had cut herself when she was questioning if she was real.

"Hopefully the last," Jeremy said dryly, taking Dawn's arm to examine the damage. "It could have been worse, I suppose. Come with me to the house and we'll get your arm cleaned up. We also need to make sure Buffy is alright."

"Yeah," said Dawn. "And I think it's time we find out why the Slayer part of her feels the need to protect me anytime I'm threatened."

Jeremy sighed as he looked at Dawn. "You can feel just as I can. I'm not taking about the scent she gives off, either."

"You are talking about the feeling that she is an alpha," Dawn said as Jeremy nodded. "Yes."

"I believe Buffy considers you as more than just her sister. As an alpha she considers you part of her pack. And if it came down to you or us, you know what she would choose. What she has always chosen."

"Me," Dawn said with a nod. "She would fight you to the death if it meant protecting me. But are you sure it isn't because she sees me as her kid sister?"

"That may be part of it," Jeremy said. "But I don't think that is the entire thing. Because of what you faced with Jack; she knows you are a capable person. I think it boils down to sides more than anything. She will always choose those she considers as part of her Pack. Which we know includes you, your sister Faith and your granddaughter Willow."

"And Rei," Dawn said.

"Rei you said was Buffy's lover," Jeremy said as Dawn nodded. "While Buffy sees her as part of her Pack, she also sees Rei on equal footing as her mate."

When they got back to the house Clay wanted to talk to Jeremy and Dawn. Dawn found an excuse and hightailed it up to her and Buffy's room where she found Buffy lying on the bed.

"Are you okay?" Dawn asked.

Buffy sighed and sat up, nodding. "Yeah. I'm scared Dawn."

"What about?" Dawn asked.

"About what happened out there," Dawn said. "Why you feel the need to protect me every time I'm threatened. And before you say it's because I'm your baby sister. Jeremy had a theory and I think its right. We can feel it, Buffy. We can feel that you are meant to be an Alpha. And as an Alpha you see those you love as part of your Pack. That includes me, Faith, Willow and Rei."

After a late lunch, Jeremy took Clay for a walk to give him instructions for that night. Buffy and Dawn had already received theirs. Clay, Dawn and Buffy were going after the mutt together. Buffy would find the mutt and lure him out to a safe place where Dawn and Clay would finish him off.

While the others were cleaning up the dishes, Buffy and Dawn slipped away. They wandered through the house and ended up in Jeremy's studio. Dawn thumbed through a stack of canvases leaning against the wall, scenes of wolves playing and singing and sleeping together, curled up in heaps of intertwining limbs and varicolored fur.

Jeremy painted human models too, though only members of the Pack. One of his favorites was on the wall by the window. In it, Dawn and Buffy were standing on the Black Pearl, with their backs to the viewer staring off into the distance. They were in period dress; and next to them stood Jack Sparrow. Dawn had recalled with detail what Jack had looked like so that Jeremy could paint him accurately. It was one of the very few that Jeremy hadn't painted a pack of wolves somewhere in the painting. He had said he wanted to paint it just as Buffy and Dawn remembered it.

"Ah-ha," Nick called from the doorway. "So this is where you two are hiding. Phone call for you both. It's Logan."

They were out the door so fast they nearly knocked over a pile of paintings. As Nick led the sisters down the hall toward the study, Clay walked through the back door. He didn't see them. The sisters slipped into the study and shut the door as they heard Clay asking Nick where they were. Nick made some noncommittal answer.

Dawn picked up the receiver and held it between her and Buffy. "Hello?"

"Dawnie!" Logan's voice boomed through a blanket of static.

"Hey, Logan," Buffy said.

"Hey Buffy. Dang I can't believe you both are actually there. How's it going? Still alive?"

"So far, but it's only been two days." Dawn said as the line buzzed, went silent for a second, then hissed back to life. "Either L.A. has worse phone service than Tibet or you're on a mobile phone. Where are you?"

"Driving to the courthouse. Listen, things here are wrapping up fast. We got a settlement. That's why I called."

"You're coming back?" Buffy asked.

"Eager for me to leave your past self, unguarded?" Logan asked with a laugh.

"I know that's not why you are in L.A.," Buffy said.

"Then you must be eager to see me," Logan said as his laugh sizzled across the line. "I'd be flattered if I didn't suspect your concern was for me to act as a buffer between Clayton and the two of you. Yes, I'm coming back. I'm not sure exactly when, but it should be tonight or tomorrow morning. We've got to finish up work here and I'll catch the next plane out."

"Good," Buffy said. "I expect to receive a full report on how Faith, Dawn and I are doing."

Logan laughed again. "It may not have been why I was here, Buffy. But I already checked in on you, Dawn and Faith. I'll fill you in when I get there."

"Great. Buffy and I can't wait to see you," Dawn said.

"Likewise, though I'm still miffed you two wouldn't let me come to Toronto at Christmas. I was looking forward to burnt gingerbread. Another great holiday tradition lost."

"Maybe this year," Buffy said. "If we are still there."

"Still there? What do you …" The phone crackled and went silent, then clicked back. "—lo?"

"We're still here," Dawn said.

"I'd better sign off before I lose you. Don't wait up for me. I'll see you both tomorrow and I'll whisk the two of you away to lunch so you can relax for a while, catch your breath. Okay?"

"Definitely okay," Dawn and Buffy said.

"We'll see you then," Dawn said.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

After dinner, Dawn and Buffy prepared for the evening. The choice of clothing posed a problem. If Buffy was going to hook this mutt, she needed to pull on the mask that worked best with werewolves: Buffy the sexual predator.

Buffy picked out a silk dress that Dawn had bought her shortly after their move to Toronto. Buffy had brought it thinking they might see a Broadway play before returning to Toronto. As Dawn helped Buffy with her makeup, Clay walked in and gave Buffy's outfit the once-over. "Looks good," he said.

At nine they left, taking Jeremy's Explorer. Their first stop was the mutt's apartment. Dawn parked at the McDonald's behind the house, and then they circled the block. The apartment was dark. The mutt was out. They then searched the bars, but came up empty. The fourth place on their list was the one without a name, only the address the sisters had memorized from the matchbook. The address led them to an abandoned warehouse. Judging by the music booming from within, it wasn't abandoned tonight.

"What's up with this?" Clay asked.

"It's a rave. Not quite a bar, not quite a private party," Dawn said.

"Huh. Can you get in?" Clay said looking at Buffy.

"Are you kidding?" Buffy asked as she looked at her sister and smiled.

"Go on then," Clay said. "Dawn and I'll take up our posts at a window."

Buffy went around to the back of the building. The entrance was a basement door down a flight of steps. When she knocked, a bald man opened the door. A tilt of her head and a promise in her smile and she was in with a handful of free drink tickets.

The hallway led to a massive open room, roughly rectangular. A second-story catwalk had been converted into a narrow balcony with a makeshift set of stairs and no second-level railing. Buffy's Slayer senses were tingling. The mutt was there. She let her Slayer senses guide her as she weaved in and out of the crowd. Her senses led her to a person. He looked familiar, but Buffy hadn't committed all the photos in the Pack's dossiers to memory. She resisted the urge to go to him, she wanted him to find her.

Knowing he'd smell her eventually, Buffy turned in a drink ticket for a Coke, she found a table near the dance floor, and waited. Buffy took a few sips of her drink, and then glanced toward the mutt's table. He was gone.

"Slayer."

Not turning, Buffy knew who it was instantly. It was the mutt. She settled into her chair, took another sip of her drink and continued watching the dance floor. He moved around the table, looked at her, and smiled. Then he pulled out a chair.

"May I sit?" he asked.

"No." Buffy said as he started to sit. "I said no, didn't I?" She hooked the chair with her foot and yanked it into the table.

"I'm Scott," he said. "Scott Brandon."

The name tickled the back of Buffy's mind. She mentally tried to pull forward his page from the Pack's dossier, but couldn't. She should have done her homework before she left. She laughed mentally. How times had changed. Back in Sunnydale she hated doing research. But that had changed in the last two hundred years with it just being her and Dawn. So that meant she had to help Dawn with it.

Buffy sipped her drink again, and then looked at him over the rim. "Do you have any idea what happens to mutts who trespass on Pack territory?"

"Should I? And why do you care?"

Buffy ignored the question. "So, what brings you to Bear Valley? The paper mill hasn't been hiring in years, or so I'm told anyways. So I hope you're not looking for work."

"Work?" He smiled. "Nah, I'm not much for work. I'm looking for fun. Our kind of fun."

Buffy stared at him for a long minute, then got to her feet and walked away. Brandon came after her and grabbed her elbow. With Slayer strength she yanked away and whirled to face him.

"I was talking to you, Slayer," Brandon said.

"So?" Buffy asked as he grabbed her by both arms and slammed her back against the wall. She was going to throw him off, but she couldn't afford a scene. Too many witnesses would turn their attention toward her if she started brawling with him. And that was something she didn't need.

Brandon leaned toward Buffy. "You are so beautiful, Slayer. And do you know what you smell like to me?" He inhaled and closed his eyes. "A bitch in heat. So intoxicating. You and I could have a lot of fun together."

"I don't think you'd like my kind of fun," Buffy said.

His smile turned predatory. "I've heard you and your sister both don't get much fun in your lives. You both have got this Pack breathing down your necks, smothering you both with all their stupid rules and laws. Women like the two of you deserve better. You both need someone to teach you what it's like to kill, really kill. A thinking, breathing, conscious human. Have you ever seen someone's eyes when they know they are about to die, at that moment when they realize you are death. That's power, Buffy. True power. I can show you both that tonight."

Keeping hold of Buffy's arms, he moved aside to show her the crowd. "Pick someone, Buffy. Pick anyone. Tonight they die. Tonight they're yours. How does that make you feel?"

Buffy said nothing. She knew how it made her feel. She had taken too many lives in the last two hundred years most of them during Jack's time. While being a pirate had been fun she had not like what she had to do to stay alive.

Brandon continued, "Pick someone and imagine it. Close your eyes. See yourself leading them out, taking them into the woods, and ripping out their throat. Can you see their eyes? Can you feel the blood, everywhere, soaking you, the power of life flowing out at your feet? It won't be enough. It never is. But I'll be there. I'll make it enough. I'll fuck you right there, in the pool of their blood. Can you imagine that?"

Buffy smiled up at him and said nothing. Instead, she slid a finger down his chest and over his stomach. For a moment, she toyed with the button on his fly, then slowly slid her hand under his shirt and stroked his stomach, tracing circles around his belly button. And then she pressed hard with just the tip of her fingernail digging into his skin, adding in Slayer strength to the point she nearly drew blood.

"Can you feel that?" Buffy whispered in his ear. "If you don't step away right now, I'm going to rip out your guts and feed them to you. That's my kind of fun. I am after all a Slayer and you know what we do, right?"

Brandon jerked back. Buffy held him tight with her free hand and dug her nails into his stomach, feeling them pop through skin. His eyes widened and he yelped, but the roaring music swallowed his cry. Buffy realized instantly that she had let the game stretch on too long. He was in the midst of a fear induced Change.

Buffy grabbed Brandon by the arm and dragged him into the nearest corridor. She was almost at the end of the hallway when she realized there wasn't an exit, only two bathroom doors. She glanced back at Brandon, hoping his Change hadn't progressed beyond the point where it could be fluffed off as a physical deformity. No such luck. A man stepped from the bathroom. Buffy spun Brandon around and saw a storage room door a few feet away. Shoving him ahead of her, she sprinted to the door, then snapped the lock, opened the door, and thrust Brandon inside.

From behind the closed door, there was a deafening roar of pain, one that even the music down the hall couldn't drown out. Two passing women turned and stared.

"My boyfriend," Buffy said, trying to smile. "He's sick. A bad batch. New dealer."

One of the women looked at the closed door. "Maybe you should get him to a hospital," she said, but continued walking, advice dispensed, and duty done.

"Dawn," Buffy whispered. "Where are you?"

A crash echoed from inside the storage room. Brandon was done with his Change and was trying to get out. Buffy had to stop him. Another crash resounded from the room, followed by the sound of splintering wood. Then silence.

Buffy yanked open the door. Tattered scraps of clothing covered the floor. On the south wall was a second door leading back into the warehouse. In the middle of the cheap plywood was a gaping hole.