"Bloody boy scout wanker." Spike muttered beneath his breath, staring spitefully at the slayer
and her G.I. Joe boy-toy, who stood cuddling in front of her house. He shifted uncomfortably in
the hidden niche he'd discovered in the house next to Buffy's. A perfect vantage point it may be,
better at least than the tree he used to hide behind, but it wasn't exactly the most comfortable
place to lurk. He inhaled deeply of the lit cigarette in his hand and then flicked it aside, pushing
the smoke slowly from his lungs as he watched Buffy disappear in Riley's solid embrace. He
tipped the beer he held in his right hand down his throat in a long gulp than tossed that aside as
well. He heard an outraged mew and turned to see a small calico cat he'd almost hit with the
bottle. The animal mewed again at him angrily. "Sorry cat. Wasn't aiming for you, ya know."
The cat seemed satisfied with that, settling down next to him to give herself a thorough cleaning.
"Oughta be a law against it. Public indecency and all." Spike told the cat, who rolled her
yellow eyes and ignored him, continuing with her bath. "Makes an honest citizen want to lose
his lunch, watching the two of the snark like that. I've half a mind to ring up her Watcher and
tell him what she's up to when she's got the rest of them slaving away. Supposed to be
patrolling, but where's little miss slayer? Lip deep in Mr. Initiative." The cat gave him an
exasperated look and marched away, tail stiff with annoyance. Spike watched her go. "Hell, I
can't even scare a bloody cat these days." He lit another cigarette and watched with suddenly
renewed interest as Buffy pushed herself away from Riley and began to berate him for ignoring
her and leaving Xander and Anya to fend for themselves. "Now this is more like it! Get him
slayer!" He watched gleefully as Buffy turned and slammed her way into the house, Riley
following with a less forceful effect on the door. Spike listened happily to the raised voices
coming from within, then turned and left, humming softly to himself. "Off to play with my
kitten now."
****************************************************************************
"And she didn't even ask us if we would go. Or if we wanted to go. She just assumes we'll all tag along after her. Just because she's the slayer she thinks we don't have better things to do with our time than help her. I could stay here and make money. I could keep the shop open while Giles and her trot off to save the world or whatever they do. Instead we're sent to fetch supplies and come get in the way and die while she does some heroic slayer stuff to try and save us. This doesn't make sense. Xander hold that bag open. Everything is going to fall out." Anya checked the list she held and than began loading several more old books and vials of spell components into a large duffel bag.
Xander panted with the effort of holding up the large duffel and balancing the smaller one flung over his shoulder. "I'm trying Anya, but this bag is so heavy I'm in danger of crashing through the floor into the basement." He heaved the bag onto the table and wiped at his forehead, half-listening as Anya went back into her tirade. He began to tune out her constant complaints as he thought about all that had happened that night. Suddenly Anya was standing in front of him, snapping her fingers in his face and looking more than a little annoyed.
"Xander, you weren't even listening to me! You don't care about anything I think. All you care about is running off to where ever Buffy decides to send you. She doesn't even bother to ask you anymore, she knows you're such a puppy dog, you'll follow her anywhere. Well I'm not you, and Buf-"
"Anya!!! Enough!!" Xander interrupted, his expression a strange mixture of offended dignity and anger. "I am NOT a puppy dog. I'm a friend. And Buffy didn't have to ask. She knew that she didn't have to worry about asking - because we're friends. That's what friends do. They help each other. She knew if she needed me I'd go. Just like if Willow needed me, or you I would go. Without question. It's a choice, Anya. And I chose to be a friend, no matter what." He stepped forward and began angrily shoving the last of the things in Anya's arms into the bag. "Even if I couldn't stand Buffy, I would go anyway. Because she's fighting against things that are bad. Not just a little bad, but end of the world bad. And I choose to side against those evil things, no matter how scary they are." He turned to Anya.
Anya flung her now empty hands into the air and clenched her fists. "But we can't DO anything Xander. Except die, or cheer pointlessly from the sidelines as Buffy beheads things."
Xander shook his head. "We can be there, and we can try. No matter what the consequences, that's what I chose a long time ago."
Anya hesitated, her anger turning to sadness. "I never made that choice Xander. I don't want to die. And I don't want you to either. Stay here. Buffy would be the first one to tell you that, if she stopped being self-involved and self-important long enough to think about it."
Xander stared at her for a moment in disbelief. He pulled the smaller bag onto the table and unzipped it, reaching inside and pulling out Anya's clothes and things. He placed them gently on the table and looked into her eyes. "I'm going Anya."
"But Xander! What if you die? I'll be alone here! I don't care about saving the world, I just want to live in it. Why can't we be normal human-type people for a while, instead of the slayer's little helpers? Why can't we live our boring little lives in happy ignorance, never knowing there was an impending apocalypse. I bet Willow or Tara could do a spell, make us forget. We could stay here and not even know what we're missing."
Xander reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her forward and hugged her, feeling her body shaking next to his. Brown eyes full of regret, he pushed her away. "I'm going Anya. And you're right. It wasn't your choice. Stay." With that he turned and left, the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, and the now lighter small one in his hand.
Anya began to sob his name, calling him to come back. But she didn't go after him. And as he
walked away, Xander realized that she had made her choice, and she knew it. She just regretted
the necessity. And so did he. Ignoring the tears in his own eyes, he flung the bags into the back
of Giles car and began driving slowly toward Buffy's house.
****************************************************************************
"Buffy, that's NOT why I'm here. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Riley, I'm not stupid. You didn't come over here to comfort me, you came to make sure I wasn't anywhere near Angel. You're checking up on me. And newsflash, I don't need a babysitter, I already have Giles. I need someone who trusts me enough to not follow me around just because my ex-boyfriend is in town."
"You're ex-boyfriend who just happens to be a vampire. Whom you still care about enough to run off to LA at the slightest hint he's in a little trouble. And an EX-boyfriend, who stares at you like he wants to eat you. And considering the source, yes I mean that literally."
"God! I SO don't need this right now. You're being immature and stubborn. I'm not WITH Angel anymore. I'm with you." Buffy shouted at him, fists clenched at her sides, fury flushing her face red.
"ONLY BECAUSE HE LEFT!!" He shouted without thinking, then blanched as Buffy's face fell. Riley instinctively stepped forward to comfort her before stopping himself. He stared at the floor instead, wishing he was anywhere but here.
Buffy stared at him, tears coming suddenly to her eyes. "Is that what you believe? With everything you know about me, that's still what you think?"
"I'm not a fool Buffy. I know I got you by default. Nothing you say is going to convince me otherwise." He looked up, hating himself for causing the pain he saw on her beautiful face. "I'm not running off to England with you Buffy. Not unless you give me a reason to. It's pretty obvious that you don't need me. And I'm not even sure if you want me. I love you, but I'm not going to waste my life being a substitute for what you really want, but can't have. Tell me you don't want him. Tell me something real, because I'm tired of the delusions I've been letting myself live in."
Buffy swallowed hard. "Something real? Fine. You're right, I don't need you. I don't need your muscle or your expertise or your skills, or your over-protective boyfriend pathos.. What I needed, you apparently can't give me now. So don't come with me. Stay here. Or go run back to your Initiative buddies and tell them all about your brief stint as a civilian." She turned and walked up the stairs, brushing past Dawn who stood with wide eyes in front of her bedroom door, obviously eavesdropping. She paused at the top and turned back to look at him. "I never deluded you, or lied to you. I always told the truth, and I gave you as much of myself as I was able. If it's not enough, than maybe the problem isn't me."
Riley started to follow her then stopped. Buffy was right. He couldn't be what she needed right now. He couldn't be the guy who stood on the sidelines, or who let things just happen. It wasn't who he was. It wasn't that she was too hung up on Angel, it's that HE was too hung up on his ideas of a normal relationship. And he knew himself well enough to know he couldn't get over that now. And maybe he couldn't ever get over it. He turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. He stood outside her house for a moment, fighting the nearly overwhelming desire to go back inside, to apologize. To do anything necessary to bring her back. Instead he turned and left, automatically moving with haste and military precision toward his dorm room. Once there he fell onto his bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, wondering if he had done the right thing, and what he was going to do now.
He didn't know how long he lay there, but suddenly and inexplicably, the silence and lack of action was too much, and Riley leapt out of the bed, yanking the door open and then exclaiming aloud in stunned surprise. "Graham?"
His old friend stood in military gear, his hand raised to knock. He too jumped back in surprise as the door suddenly swung open. "Riley! You telepathic now or something?"
Riley's shock faded and his expression turned inscrutable. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night Graham?"
"Closer to morning now. You been on too much of a nocturnal schedule with that girlfriend of yours. I just wanted to talk. Only time I could get off. They been keeping us pretty busy. Can I come in?"
Riley pulled the door further open and nodded curtly, stepping aside to let Graham step by him. Graham stepped easily into the room, turning to face Riley as he did. Too late, Riley saw his hand come up, holding some type of gun. A soft boom and Riley felt something enter painfully into his shoulder. He pushed forward both of them tumbling to the floor, his hands at Graham's throat, a growl escaping his lips. "Bastard! What did you do to me?" His voice began to slur toward the end, and his hands and body went slack. He found himself unable to move.
Graham shoved him aside roughly as he climbed to his feet and Riley's big body flopped lifelessly onto it's bag, lying helplessly still as he stared at his former friend with fear-filled eyes. He tried to speak, to demand to know again what was happening, but his mouth wouldn't move to form words and only meaningless sounds issued forth, his body felt gripped by a terrifying and overwhelming numbness.. Graham glanced down at Riley. "Don't bother trying to talk. Dart's don't allow it. Quiet time now." He nodded toward someone else in military array, whom Riley could only half see from his prone position on the floor. After a moment another man entered the room. Tall and slim dressed in a black suit, the man looked as non-threatening as they come. But his eyes were utterly emotionless. He gaze flicked toward Graham.
"You're certain this is him?" The man's elegant voice was clipped, and bore an unmistakable British accent.
"Yes, sir. Riley and I served together for quite some time. He is the slayer's current love." Graham spoke respectfully to the other man, but his voice held an undertone of derision. Riley knew Graham never could tolerate men in suits telling them what to do.
The Englishman gestured to the man outside to shut the door, then returned his attention to Graham. He handed him a small silver knife and a crystal vial. "For your sake, I hope you're right Agent. Drain him. And be quick about it. Our sleep spell will only hold the rest of this dorm for so long."
Riley watched as Graham slashed the small knife down his wrist. He felt nothing as the blood began to leak out, and Graham collected it in the tiny vial. After a moment Graham handed the vial and knife back. The man pocketed it and turned to leave. "Sir? What do we do about Agent Finn."
The Englishman waves his hand in dismissal. "Kill him. Be sure the body is put where it can't be found. If the slayer tries to contact you or him, tell her Agent Finn has left on a top secret mission. She'll believe you." The man's lips curled. "After all, you are his good friend." He vanished out the door.
Riley turned to Graham, panic in his eyes. He gurgled again, desperately trying to say "No!" Graham shook his head regretfully. "Sorry brother." He pulled a small gun out of a holster at his side and fired.
Riley felt nothing, and as his world began to darken. He managed to speak a bit, though Graham didn't understand him. "I should have stayed with her." Then his world went black.
Prodding Riley's lifeless body with his foot, Graham sighed in disappointment. "Didn't have to be like this Riley. You didn't leave us much choice though. Good luck next time around." He stepped out the door. He turned to the man standing there. "Clean up the mess. Have the body incinerated. Pack all his personal belongings and dispose of them the same way. It's to look as if he packed up and left." The man nodded in understanding and Graham left. He went out to the Cadillac parked outside and sat down in the back beside the suit-clad Englishman. "So now we're ready?"
The man flicked away invisible lint on his jacket and sniffed disdainfully. "Nearly. We're only lacking for a few things now. We should be ready in good time. Make sure you and your boys are ready too. Or they'll be worse than hell to pay."
Graham glanced sharply at him. "Oh we're already there. We're just waiting on you."
The Englishman glanced out the window at the full moon. "Not long left to wait now."
Part Six
The Left Behind
We can't all be heroes because somebody has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by.
-- Will Rogers
Willow hefted the final book into the large suitcase at her feet, gazing doubtfully at it's overstuffed contents. "Giles . . . . . even if we get this closed no one is going to be able to lift it. Do we really need all of these books. I-I mean, is "History of Dominant Pixies, 6th addition" really going to be the book that solves all of our problems?
"Willow, I haven't the faintest idea what we could be dealing with, and I refuse to fail at . . . whatever it is we're going to do simply because I failed to bring the one book I needed. Now come here and sit on this while I try to close it."
"Well when you put it that way . . . . " Willow sat on the top of the case, Giles puffing with exertion as he tried to close the clasp. Tara came and sat beside her, Cordelia pushing helpfully down on both of their shoulders, despite loud exclamations of pain from Willow. Finally they managed to shut it, Giles falling back into a chair, red faced with effort. Willow eyed the bag and then smiled at Giles. "Right . . . so . . . ready to carry it out the car?"
Giles shot her a sour look. "Why don't we wait for Buffy? Or one of the other people running around with bloody superpowers. Us mortals can sit and have a bit of tea."
Willow laughed at him. "You go ahead Giles. Us mortal Americans like our tea heavily flavored with coffee." She went to go make some, leaving Tara perched on the suitcase.
"Umm . . . . Mr-Mr. Giles? Did you forget to pack this one?" Tara held up a tattered book bearing the title "Hexes and Curses of the 13th Century"
Giles groaned and fell melodramatically back in his chair, his hand coming up to pull his glasses off so he could rub his eyes tiredly. "I don't think it will hurt to leave one book here Tara, thank you." A loud HA! sound came floating from the kitchen. "And DO be quiet Willow."
Cordelia settled on a stool near the kitchen, automatically smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt as she sat. "Does anybody have ANY idea exactly what we're doing here?"
Wesley glanced up from his position on the couch, where he'd been immersed in a large incomprehensible leather bound book. "I imagine we're going to go to England and confront the Council in their headquarters."
Cordelia snorted, causing Willow, who'd just emerged from the kitchen precariously balancing three cups of coffee to look at her in abject amusement over the inelegance of the sound. "Thanks for the tip Mr. Obvious. I meant what are WE going for? I understand why Buffy, and the beauty sleep queen need to go, but why the rest of us? Granted Angel could be a great deal of help . . . . and I guess Willow and . . . . Tara, isn't it? Could do spells and stuff." Her voice trailed off. "Shouldn't we be staying here? Ya know, battening down the hatches and all? Fighting the old fight while they're off fighting a new one?" She nodded her thanks to Willow as she took one of the coffees the other girl offered.
Wesley sighed heavily. "Cordelia, YOU are going because should the powers that be decide to help with this situation, you will be able to guide Buffy and Kat according to what your vision says. Angel is going to help protect Buffy, as he always does when she truly needs him. And I . . . . well . . ."
Giles spoke up as Wesley trailed uncertainly off. "Wesley and I are going along to drive, so you bloody wrong sided Americans don't destroy EVER historical landmark in England."
Tara spoke distractedly as she magically swirled her coffee around until it was well blended. "Spike could drive. He's British . . . . " She looked up, seeing Wesley's look of dismay. "Or not, I mean, who-who would want Spike to drive." She flushed a bit and looked down. Willow patted her consolingly on the back.
Cordelia continued. "Exactly! YOU don't even know why you're going. If you ask me-"
"I don't recall that anyone did."
She glared briefly at Wesley for his interruption and then resumed. "AS I was saying, If you ask me, you should be staying here, and helping Gunn. And so should I! That way if, god forbid, anything happens, there's still someone in LA who knows about all the bumpy faced weirdos running around at night, and can do something to fight them. If we all bought it on an elaborate trip across the pond, then what happens?"
Wesley sat up and looked toward Giles. "Much as it pains me to admit it, Cordelia is right. Do you think we should stay here? Tell Buffy and Angel our feelings on this?"
"Tell Angel whatever you like Wesley, I'll be going with Buffy. There are people who know the situation in Sunnydale and could . . . fill in should anything occur that we failed to plan for." Giles walked into the kitchen and poured himself and Wesley a cup of the tea Willow had also prepared while in the kitchen.
"Rupert, you're not looking at this rationally."
"I'm perfectly rational. In a . . . irrational sort of way." He shoved the tea cup at Wesley, who took it with a muffled curse as a bit of it splashed onto his arm. Giles ignored Wesley's pain and continued. "Buffy has never faced the Council in numbers like she will in England, and I'll not let her face them alone."
"She'll hardly be alone. She'll have Angel, and Kat, and Spike. And probably others as well."
"Angel, Kat, and Spike are all vampires, and will hardly lend her any credibility when she goes with them to argue her stability with them." Giles sat down heavily at the table, idly thumbing through a notebook covered with badly handwritten notes. "And for all that her story sounds true, we know very little of Kat, or why she's here."
Willow looked at Giles, concern darkening her bright eyes. "You don't believe her Giles?"
Tara looked surprised. "But, she showed us a movie and everything. I mean, that's hard to do when you're lying." She pushed her long hair back from her face with one hand and fidgeted nervously as everyone's attention turned to her. "Me-memory charms are very highly evolved spells, and what she did seemed more like a natural talent than any set sp-spell. I mean, if it was spell I could understand it being false. But it seemed like she just played out her past for us. It would take e-enormous amounts of control to make a memory false."
Willow squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Tara's right. We worked on memory spells a while ago. It's really hard to make one even skip something . . . . such as childhood incidents involving training bras and socks that you'd rather not be divulged to the general pub- umm . . . so anyways, yeah. Memory charms hard."
Tara stifled a laugh and Cordelia rolled her eyes heavenward with a heavy put-upon sigh.
"It does seem a bit far-fetched to go flitting across the ocean on the word of a . . . . creature we've never even really heard of. And what little we do know is, according to the Council's sketchy history, extremely negative. Granted the Council wouldn't be the best resource in this instance, but it is the only one we have. And while I'd be the first one to admit that the Council has it's problems and it's strong-arm tendencies, I've never believed them to be truly evil. They've done a great deal of good for people since their inception."
Giles sipped carefully at his tea. "Wesley, you've come a remarkably long way since you parted ways with the Council." He paused to sip again from the cup with intentionally irritating slowness. "However, you are still an idiot."
"I beg your pardon, I've been doing a great deal of important work in LA. I'm not longer the inexperienced Watcher Rupert. I've been a rogue demon hunter and then worked with Angel on a number of cases . ."
"He wore LEATHER. And he rides a motorcycle now!" Cordelia interrupted with a huge grin. "And one time, when Angel wasn't there, Wesley put on his coat and pretended-"
"Cordelia please. I AM trying to have a conversation here."
"Well excuse me for breathing." Cordelia leaned over to whisper confidentially to Willow, who was trying with little success to hide a grin. "I have pictures. Remind me to show you later."
"Cordelia's unwelcome interjections aside, what did you mean Rupert? Or were you just randomly insulting me with no purpose whatsoever?"
Giles ran a hand tiredly through his hair. "I apologize for the insult. But you are wrong about the Council. You were a trusting student of the Council Wesley. I'd been 'Ripper' for too long to walk in and welcome all the rules with open arms. I did some digging. I found out a great deal of unsavory things about the Council and their past . . . and present activities. There IS a great deal of good in them, and many of them do have only the right in their minds. But there are those who wish to use the Council for their own gain. I would trust some members of the Council with my life . . . and with Buffy's life. But I wouldn't trust the Council as a whole to dry clean my jacket."
Even Willow looked shocked at this. "Then why did you work for them for so long? And . . . that whole test thing when Buffy turned 18?"
"Because they'd been doing things that way for so many years, and because those whom I did trust kept insisting it was necessary. I should have left many years sooner." He shrugged. "But if I had, I might never have been sent to Sunnydale. I wasn't the best qualified, or most trustworthy Watcher they had trained. But Buffy had already developed a reputation for being hard to deal with. So they sent me, hoping my . . . . sordid past would help me deal with an unorthodox slayer." He smiled a bit. "And they were probably right."
Wesley cleared his throat. "So . . . you believe the council to be capable of casting that spell on Buffy, as Katerina said?"
"Oh yes. They're more than capable of something like that. But I also know that Kat hasn't told us even half of the story. She might not even know the rest of it herself, but whether or not she does, there's something else going on. I don't doubt that at all."
Cordelia opened her mouth to speak and then sucked in a sharp breath and slid with a crash to the floor in a tense, spastic pile. Her voice rose in a shrill cry and her hands clawed desperately at her head. The four other occupants of the room leaped up in synchronized panic to aid her, Giles getting there first. He grasped her hands and pulled them away before she hurt herself. Wesley knelt next to her, trying to pillow her head against the floor.
"Wha-What's wrong with her?" Tara stood in shock, her hands clasped in front of her. Willow stood beside her, pale and worried as she stared at Cordelia's pained face.
Wesley glanced away from her for a moment. "Cordelia is a seer. She has vision sent by the powers that be. They always cause her a great deal of physical pain, but I've never seen one this violent before, or one that lasted so long." He stared worriedly at Cordelia, who still thrashed helplessly, caught in the thrall of nightmares only she could see.
Finally she sagged bonelessly still, her breath short and her face deadly pale. She looked at Wesley with teary eyes. "God . . . that hurt." Wesley helped her sit up and let her catch her breath a moment.
"Cordelia, what did you see."
She looked at him, then glanced around, the tears in her eyes spilling over and running unchecked down her cheeks. "Us. Wesley, I saw us. It was so horrible. . . . . I could feel it happening. Feel what they felt, what I felt. See what was happening, where we were . . ."
Giles helped her to her feet and walked her carefully to the couch, the others clustering around her to hear. "Cordelia, slow down. Tell us what you saw exactly."
She took a deep breath. "I saw us, we were in . . . . a warehouse or something. Something big and empty that smelled like moldy cheese left to rot. There were people all around us, but . . . they weren't people. They were figures. These faceless things with hoods and big yellow eyes that stared without blinking. And then we were tied and there was blood and screams and pain. I watched them kill us . . . all of us, even myself. And then they stopped, and we lay there dead, but I could still watch from somewhere else. An the hooded . . .guys stepped back and moved aside and Buffy stepped through them. Except it wasn't her. Angel stood behind her, tied and she turned to him and held out her hand. One of Them handed her a sword and she swung . . . and his head came off . . and then there was just dust. She turned and looked at us . . . and one of the hooded figures stepped beside her and pulled down it's hood . . and it was Kat. The whole scene started to turn misty and dissipate, and Buffy looked at me, where I watched her, and said something I didn't understand. It sounded like it was in French. And then I was here, watching us sitting around Giles living room, saying goodbye to Kat and Buffy and Angel as they left. And then there was all these flashes . . of us fighting in LA, of Willow doing spells in Giles kitchen . . . random things. And then I saw myself, in black, staring at a picture of a battlefield covered with corpses. Only the corpses all bore Buffy and Angel's face. And then I looked at myself and I said the same French thing Buffy had said. And then there was . . . a jumble. A series of images that tumbled onto each other. I couldn't see anything . . . but I could see everything. There was so much. I remember looking at Kat in a vampire face, feeding on someone. And then Buffy, in the same scene, all vampire bumpy too. There was Spike bleeding in a gray room, and Angel somewhere . . . wearing a cross. Then there were these two . . . blue people wearing white, throwing a deck of cards at me. And finally I saw Angel, looking at me. He was covered in blood and he looked . . . empty. He looked at me and said "She who walks alone must remain so. All is still unwritten, but heed us well." And then it was over."
Giles stared at her in confusion and alarm. "So you saw . . . . a montage of things? I understood that your visions were usually very specific? Are they usually so vague and varied?"
Wesley shook his head. "Cordelia's visions are often elusive and maddeningly obtuse, but they are never so involved and long . . . and contradictory."
Tara left and came back a moment later, holding a cold washcloth. She offered it silently to Cordelia, who took it with a grateful half-smile that more closely resembled a grimace. "Wesley, it's my head. I think I can answer questions about MY visions better than you."
He ignored her. "I just don't understand . . ."
"But I do." They all turned, Cordelia peering between them from her perch on the couch. Angel and Kat stood framed in the doorway, their faces grave.
"You know what Cordelia's vision means, Angel?" Giles looked doubtfully at the tall vampire.
Angel crossed the room purposefully, assessing Cordelia, who had closed her eyes and pressed the washcloth to her head, dark circles already forming beneath her eyes. "Are you alright Cordy?"
She nodded and smiled. "Sure. I'm fine, unless you count the symphony of smashing rocks inside my head." He put a hand on her shoulder in a brief squeeze. He shot a quick worried glance toward Kat. Cordelia looked awful, he'd never seen her look so bad after a vision. Kat smiled reassuringly in answer.
Angel sighed and sank into the sofa beside Cordelia. "Do you remember what Buffy said to you during your dream? And the thing you said to yourself?"
Cordelia frowned. "I never was very good at French. It was . . . . 'On vous a accordé l'avertissement. Ce qui pourrait être soyez, si il disparaît inaperçu' I think. It was hard to remember. And when Buffy said it, she sorta hissed when she spoke."
Both Watchers looked stunned, Willow thought for a moment, then brightened. "Oh! I know what that means . . . . something like 'You were granted warning, what could be will be should it go unheeded.' That really doesn't sound good., does it?"
Angel sat forward. "It's a warning not to take you . . . maybe even us to England. The Slayers were always called 'she who walks alone' If you go, you will die."
Tara frowned in confusion. "Wh-why would the warning be in French?"
Giles glanced at her and thought a moment. "The last true recorded prophet was a Frenchman who lived about a hundred years ago. It may be that they are using his language as it is what they used during their last true guided vision."
"Hello, I've been having nice English visions for months now? Why suddenly with the Frog speak?"
"From what I understand, your visions usually simply show things that will be, unless you or Angel interferes. This was different. The oracles themselves appeared, and not one, but several different scenarios were showed you. It may be that Gil-Rupert is right. The oracles are hardly one to keep up with what our current language is."
Angel nodded in agreement. "I guess this is them telling us that we have to go alone . . . without you all.
Cordelia opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Wesley, to her immense annoyance. "It wasn't just us dead in those scenarios Angel, it was you as well. It seems they were telling us ALL to remain behind, save the slayer . . . or slayers. And I don't understand all of it. What is the significance of the portrait?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
They continued in that vein. Kat stayed where she was in the doorway, listening to them dissect Cordelia's vision. Parts of it danced beyond her comprehension, but much of it came clear. She was putting them in danger by taking them to the Council. She watched them for a moment, her eyes studying each in turn before resting for a long moment on Angel. Watching him, she knew with dread certainty that he would not remain behind while she and Buffy fought. He would come, and he would die. And it would be her fault. And she could stop it. It would be so simple. But Angel would fight her with everything in him before he let her do it. And when it was done, he would hate her. For as long as their immortal lives lasted, he would loathe the sight of her. Spike too would be furious. She didn't know if his hate would last as long, but she had a dull suspicion that it would. The thought of it churned her stomach and teared her eyes, but as she watched them, she knew that her mind was already made up. Sorrow weighing heavy on her mind, Kat crept from the room and closed the front door behind her. She closed her eyes, the words to a spell that was ancient even when Aggie taught it to her flashing before her. She raised her hands and traced the shape of the door, murmuring long-forgotten phrases beneath her breath. The outline of the door flared a sickly green and then faded. She carefully opened the door without stepping inside. It's occupants were slouched in the positions they had been in before she walked out, heads lolling and mouths gaping as the breathed deeply and rhythmically in the throes of a deep magically induced sleep. She peered carefully at Angel, insuring that the spell had worked on his vampiric constitution. She couldn't remember whether it was suited to vampires or not. Reassured that he was indeed deeply asleep, Kat pulled the door softly closed. She stared at the closed door for a moment. "Forgive me Angel."
She turned, the first lights of dawn picked their way through the clouds and struck her face, making her silver eyes shine with an oddly golden tint. She sighed and began to walk away when her eyes fell on a familiar lanky figure leaning against a tree, it's outstretched limbs hiding him from the encroaching sunlight. She cursed silently as one dark eyebrow arched upward beneath his platinum hair. "Well pet . . . we have been naughty haven't we?"
"I can explain Spike."
"Oh I'm all ears. Let me guess, you were just trying to arrange a little alone time for us, right?" He smiled a crooked, slightly evil smile. "All you had to do was ask luv, and I'm all yours."
She laughed a bit. "Oh shut up blondie. How often do you do your roots by the way? 'Cause I'm starting to see a hint of brown up there."
He gave her a feigned offended look. "What are you talking about? This is all Spike Kitten."
She snorted. "Yeah, sure."
His face grew more serious. "What are you doing Kat? Is something wrong? I don't much care what happens to most of the buggers in there, but I don't like being kept in the dark. Now what's going on."
She looked at him sadly, her mind blank and empty, wishing she could tell him the truth. "Spike . . . . you'll find out soon enough. Go inside, it's nearly daylight."
He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. "I'll stand here and burn to cinders unless I get some answers Kitten."
She sighed heavily and pushed the door open behind her. "Come in and I'll show you."
Spike smirked at her. "Do I look like a raging idiot to you?"
"Shall I answer that?"
He pondered a moment. "Really rather you didn't." He stepped forward authoritatively. "Now tell me right now what's going on or I'll- HEY!"
He yelled in surprise as Kat swept forward with blinding swiftness and flung herself behind him,
flinging him through the open door with all the power of her slayer heritage. He flew briefly
landing well inside the threshold with bruising force. She watched him quietly as he looked at
her with a stunned look of betrayal. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "I'm sorry Spike. I
never meant you any harm." He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a yawn. He
slumped prone onto the floor caught in the same sleep that held the others. She watched him for
a moment. "I'm so sorry my friend." She pulled the door shut, locking the sleepers inside with
a quick murmured magical phrase. And then she left, following Buffy's scent toward the
slayer's home.
Sunlight reflected off the mirrored windows of the immense building, turning it into a giant blinding pillar of light, obscuring all but a rudimentary knowledge of its shape. High in it's hidden lofts, a man stood staring out of his window. He watched the ant-like people milling the streets below on their way to their tiny jobs, going about their daily life. He smiled slowly and shook his head, marveling at the blissful ignorance the lived in. How little they knew of the world around them. And how much less they knew about the world that towered in mirrored brilliance above him.
He turned from his vantage point as the door clicked open behind him. He came forward to perch on the edge of his immense desk, his pale eyes assessing the intruders in his office. He smiled in welcome. "Welcome my friends, I trust the drive was pleasant?"
The taller of the two men stepped forward, folding himself gracefully into one of the two plush leather chairs arrayed in front of the desk, fussily adjusting the crease of his trousers. "Ghastly actually. Gridlocked traffic at five in the morning. I honestly can't understand how you people manage to get around in this country Holland." His clipped British voice was harsh with irritation. He flicked his dark eyes backwards at the other man. "Good Lord Graham, this isn't the army. Sit down for heaven's sake. You're making me nervous, hovering about back there."
The other man hesitated and than came forward, sitting down stiffly beside his English companion. Holland regarded him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the other. "We manage Richard, it just takes getting used to. Care for some tea?"
"Certainly, thank you Holland."
"My pleasure. And you Agent? Care for some tea or coffee or anything."
Graham sank a bit more comfortably into his chair, running a hand through his short hair tiredly. "No thank you sir."
"No? Perhaps another time then. And please, call me Holland. We're all friends here."
There was a moment's pause as Holland buzzed his secretary, politely requesting some tea and coffee be brought in. When his stunning secretary carried in a tray, her eyes lingering appreciatively on Graham in his green military fatigues, he thanked her and busied himself serving Richard a cup of tea and fixing a cup of heavily sugared coffee for himself. He took it and settled back down, this time sitting himself behind his desk and leaning forward, arms folded on the desk. "Well boys, can you tell me what I want to hear?"
Richard sipped delicately from his cup, than lowered it, sitting up and smiling faintly. He pulled the tiny vial out from the inner pockets of his jacket. He tossed it with disdainful casualness over the desk to Holland, who caught it with a look of delight. "Almost ridiculously easy. Graham here had me worried with all his talk of what a superior agent Finn was. Turned out the lion was nothing but a declawed house cat, thanks to the slayer, I suspect."
Holland examined the vial closely. "Excellent, Excellent. Very well done. And Angel?"
"My men kept close track of him. He is definitely back in Sunnydale with the slayer and a number of other civilians, including the seer and former Watcher who work with him. We weren't able to get a mic close enough to hear all of their conversations, but we did have the current slayer's house, and that of her Watcher bugged. Everything seems to be going according to plan."
Setting the vial carefully aside, Holland sat back with a pleased smile on his face. "And the target? I take it she is awake and well adjusted to our society, thanks to the effort of our dear departed friend Tim. May he rest in peace in whatever dustbin he currently resides in. She is in Sunnydale? And, I hope, informing them all of the Council's diabolical plans?"
"From what we recorded, the information was well planted. She believes the Council to be planning an attack on Buffy. They seem to be planning an all out war on the Council." Graham smiled a bit.
With a delighted chuckle Holland jumped up from behind his desk, looking back out the window again. "It's so rare that a plan comes to such lovely fruition. The Slayers will take care of the Council for us. I doubt they will destroy them. It took an army last time, after all, but they will distract them from their tiresome attentions toward us. They were becoming quite an irritating thorn in our side with their constant roadblocks in the way of our more . . . . exotic projects. And then our own little Twilight will take care of our little vampire problem for us."
Graham cleared his throat nervously. "Sir-ah, Holland, what makes you think Katerina will act against Angel in any way? She seems very attached to him. Even if we manage to turn her to our side, I doubt she would kill Angel for us."
Holland turned to face him, his smile stretching even wider. "Dear boy, we don't want her to kill him. Angel is essential for . . . future events this firm has an interest in. No, we have no intention of killing Angel off." He walked over and lovingly tapped the vial on his desk. "No, what we want to do is bring the slayers into a different stage of the game." He rubbed his hands together happily. "With the help of our dear friend Richard, who recently liberated himself from the Council, the slayers will give in to their, ah, primal urges. And who better to bring Angel over to the dark side than the woman who taught him how to survive with a soul in the first place, and the girl who took his soul away once before." He settled back into his chair. "Angel is a fool for love friends, as we well know. He protects his idiotic friends with rabid intensity. How much further will he go to protect Katerina and Buffy . . . . or to protect Buffy FROM Katerina? Either way, even if this fails, Angel will be far too busy to pay attention to what we're doing, here in big old LA."
Holland smiled in self-satisfaction. This had been his plan, in the works for nearly ten years, when first Richard had come to him and told him of The Eternal Twilight, who slept in a glass tomb. He'd waited patiently for the girl to wake, swinging things into abrupt motion when Buffy had killed The Master, assuring that his tool would awaken earlier then expected. He'd had the Wolfram & Heart mind reader's find him a vampire and ensure his loyalty to the firm with their unique brain-washing abilities. He'd been patient and thorough, weaving the various threads together to gain Wolfram & Heart and new and powerful ally, whether she was willing or not. And then when Angel had become a problem, Holland had discovered their relationship, again through Richard's careful spying through the Council's records. And he had changed the plan again to include the firm's newest nemesis. Now it was all coming together. The senior partners would be more than pleased.
He turned to Richard, his smile fading a bit. "And what of the . . . other issues, they have been resolved?"
Richard smirked a bit. "Of course. All other security leaks have been handled as you ordered. Save one, naturally."
Holland nodded congenially to Richard. "Naturally. Whatever would I do without you Richard?"
Graham's eyes flicked uncertainly between the two men. "What other security leaks"
Holland leaned forward and buzzed his secretary. "Send them in Jean." He turned his attention to Graham. "Nothing you should concern yourself with Agent." The door to the office clicked open and four cloaked figures stepped through. Graham, with a sudden flash of intuition jumped out of his chair, backing slowly away. Holland stepped out of the way as the black cloaked figures swept quickly forward and secured Graham with green clawed fingers around his arms. He smiled lazily. "It's been a pleasure working with you Agent, a shame we didn't have time for that cup of coffee." One of the creatures reached it's scaly hands forward and gripped Graham's head. He paled and struggled fruitlessly. With a sickening snap of bones, Graham's head was cruelly around. He slumped lifelessly in the creature's supporting arms. Holland waved his hand. "Thank you Gentlemen. You know how to dispose of that I take it." The creature's nodded their hooded heads and swept out of the room, carrying Graham's corpse with them. With a melodramatic sigh, Holland slumped into his chair again. "An unpleasant business that. On to other matters though. You've finished your preparations for the rituals?"
Richard nodded, standing and helping himself to more tea. "Nearly. I'll be ready in good time for the new moon."
Holland settled back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he thought. "Agent Graham's men . . . . they are loyal to the firm and not to their departed leader correct?"
"Yes, yes of course. Loyal to whoever pays them and ignorant of all but the most rudimentary details. They'll pose a minimum security leak until they're no longer needed and can be eliminated."
"The risk is acceptable, so long as they know nothing. If they have too much information they'll have to go the way of Agent Graham I'm afraid, and we'll find our information some other way."
"That goes without saying."
"And you're certain the Council is ignorant of all of this?"
"The Council is, as always, a circus of buffoons" Richard sneered in disgust. "Those with intelligence are focused on bigger issues than the slayer . . . such as controlling firms like this one. Which leaves the fools free to muck up things with the slayers. The Council's current plans involve a ridiculous scheme to bring Faith back under control by springing her from prison and forcing her to undergo some time of rehabilitation. An attempt they've made before with disastrous results. The members of the council who possess half of the raseri av fortid have some foolish idea of casting it on Buffy to put her out of commission. The true results of the spell are all but lost, and some believe it would actually work. But it will do them no good. They have only half of the spell in any case. The other half they "found" was created by me. If they attempt to cast it, it will do nothing to Buffy and instead backfire and kill it's casters."
"Excellent. A few less Council members is all if our favor." Holland lifted his coffee cup and sipped thoughtfully. "And now we wait" He lowered the cup and reached forward to buzz his secretary. "Jean, would you call Lindsay and ask him to come see me as soon as possible?"
"Yes sir."
"Thank you Jean. Why don't you take a long lunch, dear? You've been working awfully hard lately. Go to that lovely little Italian restaurant on Fifth, take a friend. Put it on my tab."
"Thank you sir! I'll do that." She cut the connection and Holland looked up to see Richard frowning at him.
"I thought you weren't bringing him in on this? He's unpredictable Holland, it isn't a good idea."
"Lindsey is a talented and prudent young man. And he is my second in command. It's time he was brought in. I trust him."
Richard looked doubtful. "I hope you're right Holland."
Holland smiled. "I am."
She stood on the porch of the house, collecting her thoughts. Misery hung cloak-like around her slim shoulders. Finally she raised her hand and knocked tentatively. "Just a minute" someone called from within. The door swung open and a pretty young girl with long brown hair stood there wearing a thick bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. "You DO know it's like six in the morning right? Can I help you?"
Kat smiled a bit at the girl, noting the fact that she stood well out of reach of the doorway, something that was obviously habit in this household. The slayer had trained her family well. "Is Buffy Summers home?"
The girl rolled her eyes. "I should have known. Only Buffy's friends would drop by unannounced in the wee hours of the morning. Don't any of you have any manners? Just a second, I'll get her." The door swung shut again and the girl's voice shouted up the stairs. "BUFFY! SOMEONE'S HERE! GET YOUR BUTT DOWNSTAIRS!!"
Kat listened uncomfortably as footsteps came down the stairs and the two had a mild argument about the girl's inability to walk up the stairs to get her sister. Then the door opened again and Buffy stepped forward, her face quickly turning to an expression of concern as she saw Kat standing there. "Kat? I was going to head back in just a few minutes. Is everything okay? What happened?"
"Nothing happened. Your Watcher has discovered some things about the spell that he wants to discuss. The others were still busy with their research and tasks, so I volunteered to come get you. I hope that's alright?"
"Of course. Come on in for a bit. Mom already left, we can head out as soon as Dawn gets on the bus for school." Buffy smiled faintly and lowered her voice. "If someone's not here to watch, she just won't go. She'll just pretend she fell asleep and missed the bus."
Kat forced herself to smile in return. They sat silently in the living room as scuffling noises and occasional thuds from above told them that Dawn was getting dressed. At 6:08 Buffy walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled up. "Dawn!!! Two minutes! You'd better be dressed otherwise I'm throwing you on that bus naked."
Dawn thundered gracelessly down the stairs, her long hair swinging wildly behind her. She shot Buffy a dirty look. "That would be a serious abuse of slayer powers, and I would tell Mr. Giles on you."
Buffy grinned and ruffled her hair. "You do that. Now go, Bus is here." Dawn glanced out the window and shrieked in alarm as the bus began pulling it's doors closed. She ran quickly outside with a careless goodbye wave for her sister. She watched until the bus re-opened it's doors and Dawn climbed aboard. The bus pulled away and Buffy sighed and walked back over to Kat, smiling faintly "That girl is a mess. I don't know how she hasn't given us all a nervous breakdown yet. Everyday she makes it through without killing herself is a miracle."
Kat watched as Buffy gathered the bags she'd packed and put on the sofa. "You love her?"
Buffy looked at her uncertainly. "Well . . .yeah, she's my sister. Of course I do."
Silver eyes studied the her with the insightfulness born of a long life. "Something happened after you left me last night . . . . . what is it? Riley?"
Refusing to meet those strange eyes, Buffy looked out the window instead. "It's . . . .nothing. Riley and I fought. He's not coming with us. It's probably all for the best in the long run . . . but it hurts to not have him here I guess."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I guess I've always known that this wouldn't last. It's been too . . . . normal. Riley wants parts of me that I'm not free to give. I've offered him everything I have available. All the parts of my heart that aren't taken. And it wasn't enough for him. I can't blame him. He wants what a normal girl could give him." She was silent for a moment. "But I'm not normal. And I did what I could. And even though it's horrible of me to say it . . . . a part of me is glad to see him go. I've been so confused for so long, and when he walked out it gave me this great sense of relief. Like I was finally free. If he'd stayed with me, he would have died. Now at least he has a chance of staying alive."
Kat rose silently from her chair and came to stand behind Buffy. "Slayers are not always free to be what other people are. Perhaps your Riley couldn't live with that. If so, it's better he left now than later when all that's left of what you felt is resentment." Buffy didn't turn, watching instead as Giles' car pulled slowly in front of her house.
"I know. It just doesn't seem quite fair. I think we got the short straw in fate's lottery." Xander stepped from the car and began walking toward the front door.
A tear slid with agonizing slowness down Kat's pale cheek. "It IS unfair. I am so sorry Buffy"
"It's not your fault."
"But so many things are, and for those things I can never be forgiven. Just as I will never be forgiven for this." With all the speed of her heritage, Kat leapt forward and grabbed Buffy by the throat. The young slayer tried to fight, but Kat was stronger, and Buffy was utterly unprepared and physically and mentally exhausted. For the first time since The Master had turned her, Kat voluntarily willed her face to change and her fangs to emerge, and lowered her head to feed on human blood.
Buffy struggled and then stilled, blood pounding in her ears and emotions running rampant through her mind. Hurt, betrayal, disbelief all thundered through her mind, before a strange sense of acceptance came through and she went limp. The constant problems that plagued her, vampires, death, friends, love, hate, Riley, Angel . . . .they all began to fade from her mind as Kat's fangs pierced her neck and her blood began to leave her. She closed her eyes, wondering idly why there wasn't any pain. Tears slid from her clear green eyes. She didn't cry for herself, she cried for those she left behind; those who would miss her and would hate the creature who crouched over her, taking her life. The creature who was so much like Buffy herself, and whose whispered apology came clear now. In the hazy slowness of her ebbing life, Buffy forced her eyes back open and looked at Kat, licking her lips and whispering softly. "I understand." Realizing as she spoke the words that they were true. She did understand.
Kat didn't hear her. From the moment the blood had touched her lips, Kat had been transported into a flailing and painful ecstasy as the darker demon half that dwelled within her howled in triumph and beat resoundingly upon the edges of the cage she held her in. She felt the blood flowing into her like a fountain of unbelievable strength. Intoxicating, addicting, powerful; she had never known it would feel like this. She felt Buffy's heart slowing and for a moment she failed, and the other side of her took control and gazed out at Buffy's slowly dying face with triumph. She controlled it forcibly and shoved Buffy away from her with a sob, crouching back and howling with the pain of her darker side's demands. Her face shifted back to it's normal planes as the door to Buffy's house burst open and Xander came flying through, yelling Buffy's name and looking desperately around for a weapon as he saw what was happening.
Buffy pushed herself up onto her elbows with a surge of effort, looking into Kat's eyes. Kat brought her wrist to her mouth and bit deeply, blood blossomed in a red river from the wound. She held it out toward Buffy. The darkness within her, both slayer and demon screamed in fury at her but she ignored them. Buffy looked at her, the light in her eyes fading and her face free of comprehension. Kat forced herself to speak. "Buffy . . . choose. Drink and live, or die. It is your choice."
Buffy's voice was breathy and soft. "But . . . my soul . . . ."
"You can do what I did. I will help you. You will not lose your soul if your fight and believe that you can keep it."
Buffy's thoughts rattled haphazardly around her, flitting out of her reach as she tried to understand them. She knew what she should choose. She knew what her friends would tell her to do. But the thought of that fight, of struggling -again- to survive . . . she was just so tired.
Kat watched the other girl, seeing the path of her thoughts and dreading the decision she knew would be made. "Buffy . . .."
Buffy opened her mouth to refuse, to chose oblivion, when her hazy vision cleared and she saw Xander, his face streaked with tears and a stake held in his hand, standing behind Kat, his murderous intentions forgotten, obviously having heard what Kat had said. "Xander . . . . no . . . . don't." She didn't want him to watch. Didn't want him to see her give up.
He leapt forward, kneeling beside her and holding her head in his arms. "Buffy . . . please . . . stay." He knew he should let her go, that she wouldn't want to live a vampire's life. But his world was crashing in around him and he didn't want to lose her. She was the light in all of their lives; the only thing that gave them hope throughout the constant rain of evil and pain and death, though they never told her.
She stared at him, her eyes studying his pleading face. She pushed herself up with the last of her strength and grasped Kat's outstretched hand. She lowered her mouth and began to drink.
Kat's body shook with the effort to not yank her hand away as Buffy drew all of that extra power away. Xander stared at her with hate-filled eyes as Buffy pulled a new life back into herself. Finally her head drew away she dropped Kat's hand. Kat collapsed to her knees, staring as Buffy screamed with pain, her blonde head shaking and her eyes screwed shut against the light. She reached out with her mind. Showing Buffy again the scene when so long ago, The Master had done the same thing to her. She spoke to her, entreating her to remember who she was, and what she was. Buffy rocked back and forth, her skin paling as the heat slowly left her body. It seemed hours before her body began to finally unclench. Kat reached out again, desperately trying to see whether Buffy had succeeded in keeping her soul, or whether the darkness had won out over her will. Finally the girl's eyes opened, and Kat gasped in disbelief and despair as she saw that behind the newly silver tinted eyes, there lurked something that was not Buffy. She jumped forward and pushed Xander away. He flew backwards, crashing against the wall with a dull thud and sliding to the floor. The strange silver eyes flickered and Buffy cried out "Xander!" her voice worried. Kat looked again, and this time she saw Buffy looking back. She melted in relief as the other girl rose and went to help Xander to his feet. Kat pushed herself tiredly up, her knees still trembling as she stood.
Buffy came to stand before her, Xander beside her. Xander's face was screwed up in an expression of pure hatred and fury, but there was no condemnation in Buffy, only a strange calm and a great sadness, and within those newly changed eyes, Kat saw Buffy looking back. She had won, and a thousand questions ran through her mind, but when she spoke, it was only a single word. "Why?"
Kat studied her as she stood in a patch of full sunlight. Part of her noted that Buffy too seemed immune to the vampire's curse, but the rest of her was too tired to do anything but answer her. She spoke just as briefly. "The raseri av fortid."
Buffy nodded in understanding. "It only works on the living."
"I'm so sorry Buffy."
Buffy hesitated and then began to speak, but whatever she was going to say was lost as Xander interrupted. "You should be. There were other ways. You didn't have to do this! You gave her no choice. Dead or Undead is not a decision she should have had to make!" He was so furious he shook. Buffy laid a hand on his shoulder, her eyes growing ever sadder as he winced away from her touch.
Kat didn't try to defend herself. She knew it was useless. This boy wouldn't be the only one to hate her for what she'd done. She'd known that from the beginning. She swallowed hard, regretting what she'd done but knowing that if she'd had to do it over, she'd do the same thing. 'Go to your Watcher's home. Do not go inside. Open the door and say "Sleeping house Awaken. They will explain what has happened."
Buffy reached forward and gripped Kat by the shoulder, forcing her to turn back and look at her. "I already know. I saw it when you . . . . when we . . . when I changed. I understand . . . and if things had been different I would have done the same thing."
Kat looked at her in astonished gratefulness. Suddenly, to her own surprise and Xander's
obvious disgust, she reached forward and gave Buffy a short hard hug. "I'm sorry . . . but thank
you. You may need to feed Buffy. Obviously sunlight isn't forbidden to you, but this is still
new territory. Be careful around people until you find out for certain. Angel will help you. I
have to go." She ran a finger gently around Buffy's eyes. "Many things have changed Buffy,
some you do not yet know or understand. Be careful and be vigilant, and do not expect too
much too quickly." She turned and left, disappearing quickly down the street. Buffy turned to
face Xander, but her eyes strayed to the mirror behind him, where she saw his back reflected,
and beside him- nothing. In that moment all that had happened overwhelmed her, and Buffy
collapsed to the floor sobbing, as Xander awkwardly tried to comfort her.
They sat in stunned silence, perched in various positions and poses about Giles' small living room. Each seemed unwilling to speak, as if to speak were to acknowledge fully what had happened, and none of them was ready for that. It was incomprehensible to them. Each stared at Buffy in confused fascination until she looked back at them, then they dropped their eyes and looked away, unable to face the face whose familiar planes had suddenly taken on an edge that made her so different from the girl they knew so well, and whose eyes had suddenly become as alien as the woman who had done this to her. It was Xander who finally spoke. The extra time he'd had to absorb the truth helping him overcome the shock. "Giles . . . there's a way to undo this isn't there? Some ancient forbidden secret Watcher mind trick that will change a vampire back? She had no right to do this . . . . it can't just be the way it is."
Giles cleared his throat nervously, trying to hide the misery that had begun to claw at his chest as soon as he'd seen that this girl who'd become like a daughter to him had suddenly had her life ripped away. "No one wishes that were so more than I Xander . . . but it simply isn't true. I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done." He forced himself to look at Buffy, who sat slumped on the sofa, her eyes downcast. "Buffy . . . . how did you keep your soul? I'm afraid I still don't understand."
Buffy looked up and saw him watching her. She understood with startling clarity that it wasn't that Giles didn't understand . . . . it was that he didn't know whether he could believe her. It hurt to see the doubt in his eyes, but she couldn't really blame him. Though she really wished she could. "I don't know. I just . . . willed it. Kat helped as much as she could. I'm still me . . . . I'm just a different version of me. Everything feels different now."
Angel sat with his head in his hands, his body so tense it almost shook. "I can't believe she would do this to me. . . .I thought I knew her."
Buffy whirled to face him. "She didn't do this to YOU! She did it to me. And she had no choice."
Willow rose to stand beside Angel, her face pale beneath her shock of red hair, her blue eyes teary. "She-she had a choice Buffy! She could have asked for help, she could have talked to us, figured out another plan . . ."
"And what? We discuss the fact that you going to England to stop the Council will get you all killed, and probably us as well? And you all listen quietly and nod your heads and decide to sit here on your hands and do nothing while we go without you? I KNOW you. She KNOWS you . . . or at least some of you. She knew as well as I do that no matter what we did to stop you, you'd find a way to go anyway. And then you would die. She made a choice. One life instead of five, or a dozen, or how ever many would result from what we did. I may be the slayer, but if I die . . . when I died I guess . . . another slayer will be called. The fight will continue, just with a different player. She took my life to save all of yours, and then offered me a chance at a different sort of life." She quieted a moment as they stared at her. "If it had been different . . . if I'd been the one who could save you by sacrificing her . . . I'd have done it. Without thought, without question I'd have done it. I would have regretted it, or at least the necessity of it, but I would have done the same thing. I can't blame her, I don't hate her. She's . . . . so much like me." Her voice grew choked with emotion. "I -she, neither of us can escape what fate decided we should be. We're the equalizer, and as much as I hate it - as much as she hated this- sometimes it's left to us to decide who lives or dies. And we can't pick and choose, we just have to keep the numbers down. We're just cosmic damage control, and we do what we forced to do."
Angel stood. "But you don't deserve this Buffy! You've done nothing but good, you don't deserve being imprisoned in a corpse that won't die, wondering everyday if when you wake up tomorrow, you'll still have a soul."
Buffy stared at him, and for the first time since they'd met, as their eyes and wills did battle, Angel was the first to drop his eyes away, unable to stare at the unfamiliar silver gleam of her gaze.. When she spoke it was with a quietly fierce defiance. "It isn't a prison. Not yet. And when the day comes that it becomes one . . . . I know where the warden keeps the keys, and I'll let myself out."
Angel winced and stared at the floor. He wanted to comfort her, to find Kat and vent his rage and grief. He wanted to do something to bury the sudden core of hope and the yawning cavern of disappointment that had been battling in his mind since Buffy had walked into the room wearing the mantle of the Undead. Instead he stood paralyzed and said nothing, willing someone else to say what he couldn't.
Buffy glanced from one to the other and sighed. "I'm going home for a while. I need to be alone I think . . . and someone should be there later when Dawn gets home."
Giles spoke without thinking. "Are you sure that's wise Buffy? You being alone with Dawn so soon after the change?"
He regretted speaking instantly as he saw the flash of deep pain cross Buffy's features. She forced a smile. "Don't worry Giles. I'll stake myself before I make Dawn an after-school snack." She hesitated another moment, looking quickly around the room full of her friends, and then fled.
As the door clicked shut behind her, everyone left in the room sagged unconsciously in their seats. Willow walking over to sit beside Tara before collapsing and Angel sinking bonelessly to the floor in a graceless sitting heap. No one spoke. No one knew what to say. After an endless moment, a voice that had been silent till now spoke from the corner of the room, where he'd been forgotten by nearly everyone present. His sharp voice was laden with disgust . . . and a hint of the sorrow he was trying to hide. "You're a lot of useless fools. You sat here and let her walk away and didn't say a word."
Cordelia stared at him, her confusion and sadness quickly turning to annoyance with the blonde vampire. "Shut up Spike. You don't know anything about this, you threw a party and went fishing for gypsies when someone YOU knew went fangy. You don't have a clue what we're going through."
Spike flipped a cigarette butt onto the carpet, where Giles hurriedly stomped it out with a curse.
Ignoring him, Spike pulled his jacket over his head and picked up the thick dark blanket that
hung over the back of the sofa. He turned back to look at everyone again, his lip curled in
revulsion. "I know enough. I know that not one of you bloody lot who call yourself her friends
. . . who even claim to love her! Not one of you told her that it didn't matter to you. That she
was still Buffy and you didn't care what had happened, so long as she was still her. I know that
she stood there and needing and waiting for someone to tell her that they it didn't matter, and
they still cared for her and believed in her. And not one of you said a single word. I know that
much." He spat on the carpet. "I don't care what "your going through," it's nothing compared to
what she's going through. And you should know that. Some sodding friends you are." He
yanked open the door and pulled the doubled-over blanket over his head as well, muttering
profanities under his breath as he ran, smoke drifting from him in faint sizzling clouds, full out
for the nearest sewer entrance. With any luck, he'd be to Buffy's house before Buffy herself got
there.
****************************************************************************
The door slammed shut behind Spike with an echoing crash. Those who remained behind stared dumbly at it for a moment, each wondering who would be the first to speak. Finally Xander, with an irritated expression pointed toward the door and cleared his throat. "Much as it pains me to admit it, and you all know that it WILL cause me intense physical pain, Spike was right. We're horrible, horrible people."
Wesley shook his head faintly. "Well I rather think that's a bit of an overstatement of fact. We were simply a bit slow to react or-" Seeing Giles expression out of the corner of his eyes, Wesley interrupted himself mid-sentence. "Or we're horrible people."
Xander nodded in agreement, and after a moment Willow and Tara did as well. Tara looked particularly guilty, obviously thinking of Buffy's acceptance of her supposed half-demon status, even if it had proved to be a lie. Even Cordelia looked subdued and a bit ashamed. Angel still sat in silence, looking as if his world had come to its final end.
Willow looked quickly at him, wondering if he even heard anything any of them were saying. "We should go after her. Tell her it's okay, and we still want her to be with us and all."
Giles shook his head faintly. "No. We missed our first chance. And I think, ah, she should probably have a chance to be alone. I doubt she's had time to . . . . absorb what's happened. She may need time to think in peace." Especially after she talks to Spike, he silently added.
"But she needs us! We shouldn't just let her go off alone thinking we're abandoning her. I'm going, whether or not-"
"No." Angel pushed himself to his feet with a seemingly phenomenal effort and cut Xander off in the middle of his declaration. "Giles is right. No one's going after her. Not now."
Xander glared angrily. "You waltzed out of here with barely a 'see you later', and then come waltzing back and expect the rest of us to just bow down and follow the orders of the almighty Deadboy? I don't know how it works in Vampire world, but in this world we don't take off and leave, and we don't leave them alone when they're miserable. So why don't you get back in your Batmobile and go home. I'm sure someone back in LA is flashing the Angel signal waiting for you. I'm going to see my friend."
Angel stepped into Xander's path as the young man tried to leave. "No. You're not."
"Are you going to stop me? I was under the impression that you didn't EAT too many of the good guys anymore Angel. Then again, you haven't been acting like all that much of a good guy these days yourself, have you? Even down here in wee little Sunnydale we hear rumors. Tell me Angel, having some trouble with an old girlfriend, so decided to come down here and play with the one that was still alive for a while?"
Angel's face darkened furiously as Cordelia leapt to her feet and pulled Xander away. She refused to meet Angel's eyes, obviously upset that Xander had let slip the fact that she still talked to him . . . and told him what Angel was up to. "You have no idea what you're talking about Xander. Just shut up before he decorates one of these walls with your brains, okay?" After a moment she looked up at Angel, panic on her face. "You know I was only kidding right? I don't really think you'd paint with his brains."
Angel let some of the tension flow from his body and nodded at Cordelia, trying to force a small smile, though it came out looking more like a grimace. "I know Cordelia. And Xander-" he looked at the boy. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you what to do. Just wait a while before you go see her, okay? I know what she's going through . . . . she'll need some time to adjust." Xander didn't answer, but gave a single abrupt nod before walking away into the kitchen.
The rest of them sighed as he volatile atmosphere of the room gradually eased. Angel walked over and pulled on his jacket. Willow watched him for a moment before finally asking. "Where are you going?"
He barely glanced at her. "I'm going to find her."
Willow gasped noisily and everyone else began a clambering protest behind her. She waved her hand furiously at them to be silent, and was more than a little surprised when they obeyed. "Angel! You just told US to leave her alone, and here you go running after her? That's not right. And besides, hello, it's daylight. Unless you're planning on being the star of a barbeque, you'd better stay inside for a while."
He finally looked back at her. "I'll be fine. I'm taking the car, it's tinted black enough to drive in the daylight."
Willow jumped forward and grabbed his arm, her voice a bit shrill with disapproval. "You can't! You said to leave her alone, and that goes for you too."
He pulled his arm away and walked out, his jacket pulled over his head. "I'm not going to find Buffy."
Willow stopped in her tracks as understanding crossed her small face. Her voice was small as she spoke. "Oh, I see." As the door slammed shut behind a smoking vampire for the second time that day, Willow went back to sit with Tara, leaning her head on the other girl's shoulder and letting the tears she'd been holding back fall. "Poor Buffy."
Tara stroked her hair and murmured too softly for anyone but Willow to hear. "Poor Kat, too."
Willow raised her head sharply, her face a bit angry and surprised. But after a moment of
thought, the anger faded and a look of sorrowful sympathy replaced it. She nodded slowly and
leaned her head back down, wondering what she would say the next time she looked into
Buffy's strange silver eyes. She hoped she'd find the right words this time.
She stood shrouded in a clinging, slithering mist that obscured all but the most basic of shapes from her searching gaze. The mist danced and swayed about her as she moved, trying to escape it. Her movements felt slow and languid, and the mist seemed to grow thicker as she sought a release from it. She gave up after a moment, standing perfectly still and waiting. She did not know what she waited for. She could see nothing, but she knew she was not alone. She felt the other's presence, it's familiarity soothing in this blind cocoon. The identity of that other presence wandered through her mind, but the mist reached in and snatched it away, and it was lost. She heard a sound behind her, like the rustling of grass and the whisper of skin against silk combined. She turned, the mist parted and she walked down the path it created for her. At the edge of the mist she stopped and gasped, looking down into a yawning empty void. She stepped back. "What is this?"
"It is the end." She whirled carefully, edging further away from the edge, her eyes studying the hazy robed figures that stood before her. Ageless and alien, they were utterly inhuman and their wavering gaze held no hint of empathy. The one who had spoken waved a blue tinted hand toward the void. "It is also the beginning."
She tilted her head, blinking at the odd echo of the speaker's voice. It's tones were feminine, but somehow sounded nothing like a woman. "I don't understand."
The other spoke now. It's male voice sounding vaguely amused. "It is not for mortals to understand."
"I am not mortal." She listened startled to her own words, and the odd echo behind them, as if they had been spoken by more than one voice.
"All things are mortal. Nothing is eternal, you're mortality is simply of a different plane than that of humans.
"What is that the beginning and end of?"
The female now, stepping forward, her form becoming more solid. "Everything. Nothing. It is the silence from which all things emerged, and all things will return."
She turned again and stared at the blackness. "It is despair."
The female nodded. "And hope. Love and hate. Life and death. It is the truth that no mortal will ever comprehend."
"Why does it look like blackness to me?"
"You look at it with the eyes of one who has lost their faith. To you it is despair, because that is what is in your heart."
"It is God?"
"God is an invention. This is greater than god. It is Truth."
She nodded, though she did not understand. "Why do you show me this?"
"It is . . . a bonus. A side-affect of our bringing you here. Mortals were not meant to walk these halls. We were the emissaries of this place, The Mortal world's link to this plane. Things move in your world, and we cannot be there again now. Instead, we brought you here."
"Why?"
"There are signs and events. We have lost control of the champions we chose, and those who sent us from the mortal plane possess powers that could destroy our plans."
"You are immortal, and you stand with what you call the ultimate power. Why do you need me?"
The male spoke now, his voice more impatient than his sister's. "You are our physical hand on your plane, you and a handful of others. Of all of those, you are the one able to stop what is to come. The limitations our imprisonment here imposed on us caused our warnings to go awry, and become nothing but vague distillations of our original message."
"You sent Cordelia the vision."
"Yes. It was . . . an aspect, a possibility, and a warning. It was an effect of what you were planning to do. Such vague warnings will not help you enough, so we brought you here."
The female laid a hand on her brother's arm and spoke again. "Time grows short and we must hurry."
"What do I have to do?"
"Another of our favorites, the souled vampire, an enemy he has battled now holds the keys to an ancient ritual that will unleash a plague of destruction, the same enemy that robbed us of our physical forms. More dire still, it will rob us of our highest champions. You. They must be stopped, or you will become the creatures that haunt your deepest nightmares. Without you and your successors, the Balance will shift, and all will come undone. The implications cannot be understood by your kind."
"How can I stop them?"
"The most powerful of them must be destroyed. Gather your allies, or you will fail. All knowledge of the ritual must be erased, or the threat will simply re-emerge.
She frowned. "How can knowledge be erased?"
"There is one among you already whose talents have yet to be awakened. They alone will possess the power to clear minds and erase memories. Find them, and keep them safe. They are essential."
"There is so much I still do not understand. Is this why the Change had to happen?"
"Things will come clear in time, if you succeed. If you fail, the answers will not be so essential." The two figures were fading into one, and the mist was again becoming a living, blinding entity.
"What if I fail?"
The voice was distant now, she had to strain to hear it. "Then others will come after you and try to repair the damage. They will not succeed." The last words became incomprehensible, and she turned in place, seeking a way through the mist. Suddenly a flash of light nearly blinded her. When her eyes opened again, the female stood again before her. She started to speak, but the creature raised a hand. "Time is gone now, but remember this. Beware of hidden enemies, and true selflessness is eventually rewarded. Stave off despair, or all your suffering will be for nothing, and your efforts will be wasted. A heart with no hope will never succeed against the press of the darkness. The Balance between worlds must be weighed at the portal that joins them."
She glared briefly. "You are not of this world. Why do you care which side rules it?"
The figure smiled briefly. "We are not impartial. We are as firmly entrenched on our side of the battle lines as you are on yours."
"We are not fighting on the same side?"
She waved a hand vaguely and elegantly in the air. "We are not in the same war. We fight our own war, as those above us fight their own."
"You have betters?"
"All creatures answer to a higher power. Even us. We do not wish for the Darkness to claim your world. We are . . . . attached to it. Besides, it would disrupt the Balance."
Distant voices began to thread their way through the mist, and the figure turned toward them. "Goodbye Slayers. We will meet again." She disappeared, and the mist became solid and thick. She felt it reaching down her throat and she began to choke, trying to scream for help. She fell to her knees, something sharp cutting into her palm. She reached up to claw at her throat, a scream finally escaping . . . .
Miles apart, two women bolted awake, jarred by the force of their own gurgling screams.
Images of a half-remembered dream rolling through their heads. As one, they raised their right
hand and looked, unsurprised, at a shallow cut down the center of their palm.
****************************************************************************
The young man stood nervously before the older, One hand stuffed deep in his pockets to hide its plastic fingers. He started to speak, but the other man waved him to silence as he spoke into a speaker-phone with an unseen party over a static filled phone line. The young man sighed and sank silently into a plush leather chair, straining to hear the static disrupted, distinctly British voice on the other end of the line.
"There are . . . . unexpected difficulties, Holland. We could not have anticipated this development."
The man at the desk waved a hand, glaring angrily at the offending speaker. "You should have adjusted for all possibilities. Our time frame may well be shorter now. The Council is breathing down our necks, and they may well contact the Slayers before the Slayers even seek them out to repay them for their treachery. That would put a serious kink in our planning, as you know they will not hold the entire council responsible for the misguided actions of a few. Especially when the few had no chance of success."
A hiss of static drowned out the beginning of the other man's sentence, but cleared again after a moment. "-and there is a distinct possibility that this may have increased the Slayer's animosity toward the Council."
Holland frowned. "You're certain she kept her soul."
"Our friends who've been monitoring the Watcher's house assure me that the Slayer herself said she was Changed, and her soul still intact."
"What of Twilight? Where is she now."
"We don't know. The other members of the Slayer's circle did not take kindly to her actions."
Holland sighed and sank back in his chair, one finger idly massaging his temple. "Richard, I am most disappointed in you. I expect these problems to be fixed, and the whereabouts of Twilight and the situation in Sunnydale to be well in control by this time tomorrow. Adjust your preparations for the rituals, or you will be hearing from me very soon. And you will not like what you hear."
Holland clicked the speaker-phone off as Richard began stammering an apology. He turned his attention to the young man, who stared back at him, waiting. "Well Lindsey, I expect you're aware of the current situation I'm in."
Lindsey nodded. "If you mean with the Slayers, I know something about it, though I don't know all the details -"
"Actually no. I was referring to the situation I'm in . . . . with you."
Lindsey sat forward, unconsciously bringing his hands together to clasp, and frowning when he met only plastic one side. "I don't understand sir."
"Lindsey, the senior partners have placed a great deal of faith in me. This . . . . project is one I've been planning long before you joined our firm. It is, I hope, the final push I will need to be raised to full status within this firm. But before I can be promoted, they must have someone who can take my place here."
Lindsey smiled a bit. "Sir, if you want to know if I'm qualified to take your place, I assure you-"
Holland cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No, that is not my concern. You and I both know that your training and talents make you the best suited for this position. No, what concerns the Senior partners most, is your dedication." Holland stood and walked around his desk to stand directly before Lindsey, half sitting on the front of his immense desk as he spoke to the younger man. "Lindsey, your talents can only take you so far. Your past . . . . defiance of this firm's policy has held you back for longer. The senior partners want to trust my judgement, but are leery of giving someone with an, ah, inconsistent background such an esteemed position." Holland smiled. "Now you know I trust you completely Lindsey, but the Senior Partners require a show of good faith before they will allow you to rise any further with this firm."
Lindsey stood so he was even with Holland, his face a study in determination. "What do I have to do?"
Holland smiled. "That, I don't know. You and I are going to meet the Senior Partners, and they will decide what you must do."
Lindsey felt a chill run down his spine. The Senior Partners were well known for being something other than human. Something VERY "other". He'd heard horror stories about demons that demanded a sacrifice of a body part before they allowed a human partnership in the firm. He glanced down at his severed hand, and wondered if that would suffice.
Holland led him out of the building and they hailed a cab. As the car sped away from the offices of Wolfram & Heart, Lindsey wondered, briefly, if he was wading into an ocean when he could barely swim. He clamped down harshly on the thought and settled back to make idle chit-chat with Holland as the cab sped them away toward the richest and most opulent section of LA.
***********************************************************************
Lindsey gaped soundlessly as he stepped from the cab. He had expected a castle-like structure, something dark and gothic and imposing. The house -mansion- before him was nothing like that. Huge and stately, the estate was all light and columns and marble, it was imposing only in it's size and opulence, not because of the dark demeanor he'd expected.
Holland stepped beside him, obviously enjoying Lindsey's reaction. "You should see it as Christmas time. A giant Santa and this whole workshop full of little moving elves and reindeer." Lindsey shot him a look of pure disbelief. Holland chuckled a bit and pulled Lindsey by his arm. "Come on. They're expecting us." They walked up to the immense arching doorways. Lindsey tentatively pushed the doorbell and was rewarding by a great melodic clanging of bells that would have sounded more appropriate in the middle of Notre Dame. The doors swung open a moment later to reveal a tall, stately man in a stiff suit and large glasses. He greeted them warmly by name, surprising Lindsey more with his accent- which was Australian rather than the stereotypical British- than with his foreknowledge of who they were. He escorted them quickly to a large an airy library and waved them into two terrifyingly modern chairs. Lindsey lowered himself carefully into one, eyeing the slender legs dubiously and attempting to keep most of his weight on his feet as he sat.
"Can I get either of you something to drink? Or perhaps a bite to eat? Our cook baked up some mini fruit pies this morning, they're surprisingly good."
Holland smiled and shook his head. "No thank you Anthony. We'll just wait here thanks."
The butler smiled. "Just hit that little button on the wall by the desk if you need anything. The blue one, see?" He excused himself and left. The two men sat, Holland with calm reserve, Lindsey with poorly hidden trepidation. Finally the door to the library opened and two men stepped into the office. Both smiled warmly and greeted Holland with proffered handshakes. Lindsey was again taken by surprise. The two men were . . . . normal. No otherworldly aura, no fangs or spikes or bloodstains. They looked like two ordinary businessmen. Which, oddly enough, Lindsey found extremely unsettling.
Then the taller of the two turned to Lindsey and proffered his hand. "You must be Lindsey MacDonald. We've heard quite a lot about you! Holland seems to have high hopes for you."
Lindsey took the man's hand and shook firmly. "I hope to live up to his expectations of me sir."
The man smiled a bit unpleasantly. "I'm sure you do. I'm Lee Stanchon, this is Matt Cronberg." The shorter man nodded his balding head and quickly shook hands. His grip lacked strength and his hands were unpleasantly clammy. "Please, having a seat."
Holland and Lindsey sat back down in their chairs and the two men went around the desk to settle into black office chairs behind the desk.
Lindsey hesitated, seeing Holland watching him carefully. "You're not the Senior partners?"
The two men glanced at one another, then at Holland. "Suffice it to say we speak with their voice."
Lindsey nodded and looked again toward Holland. The other man flicked his eyes significantly toward the large wall-mounted bookcase to Lindsey's right. Lindsey followed his eyes and smiled a bit to himself. He considered keeping his findings to himself, then decided against it. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, eh fellows?"
The two men gave him a sharp glance. Lee finally gave a small smile and nodded toward the bookcase. "Indeed. In time, you may well meet the Wizard Dorothy. If you stay on the yellow brick road."
A smirk turned up the corners of Lindsey's mouth as he nodded.
Lee cleared his throat and focused his attention on Lindsey. "Mr. MacDonald, as you know events crucial to this firm are unfolding in the very near future. Holland, despite his best efforts, simply cannot be everywhere at once and has found himself a bit overwhelmed. He has requested help on this . . . case. It seems the only one qualified and . . . . . suited to assisting him, and perhaps eventually taking over for him, is you." Lee picked up a folder on the desk and began to flip idly through it. "You're record has been . . . spotty however in recent months. We need to be assured of your loyalty to our cause and to our firm."
Lindsey sat forward. "Anything you need me to do, just tell me. I fully regret my rash mistakes, and have every intention of staying loyal."
Lee smiled again and pushed the folder toward Lindsey. "There are several impediments to our current course of action. Thorns in Wolfram & Heart's side. Remove those thorns, and you will have erased clean your record, and will again be well on your way to being a very important person within this firm."
Lindsey rose and took the folder. "Removed as in . . . . ."
Matt spoke now. His voice surprisingly deep. "Removed as in no longer of this world Mr. MacDonald, as I'm sure you well understood. The time for walking the safe line is well over. These . . . thorns MUST be removed."
Lindsey blanched, but nodded. "I'll do my best. You have my word."
Both men rose. "I suggest, Mr. MacDonald, that you do better than that. Success will have its own rewards. We don't discuss failure. It is simply not allowed." Lee smiled, the unpleasantness of it becoming downright frightfulness. They left, shaking hands with Holland and urging him to join them at the clubhouse on Sunday.
Holland turned to Lindsey. "You go on back to the office Lindsey. Lee and I have some matters to discuss. You and I will talk later." Lindsey nodded and Holland left him alone in the huge library. Lindsey glanced down at the folder he held and, with his breath unconsciously held, flipped it open. On each side were two stapled sets of papers, a photograph paper clipped to the upper right hand corner of each. He stared at the familiar face of one and read the top sheet quickly.
"Cordelia Chase. Last known place of employment, Angel Investigations. Last known residence, Los Angeles. Associate and Employee of Angelus, Vampire. Known Seer. Elimination necessary. Harvesting of eyes and/or head if possible." He stared in disbelief at the pretty brunette who smiled at him from the picture. He looked quickly away, looking at the other picture. A dark haired young man, almost a boy really looked back at him. He read. "Alexander Harris. Last known residence, Sunnydale California. Associate of Buffy Summers, the Slayer. Elimination necessary, at all costs."
Lindsey gulped and looked up searchingly at the bookcase. He stared at it, willing it into
transparency so he could see what was behind it. It stayed opaque, and he turned and left,
walking toward the front doors and his waiting cab.
****************************************************************************
Behind the solid wall, two pairs of eyes watched on a wall of monitors as the young lawyer fled the mansion. When they spoke, their voices were oddly echoed and had the perfect diction of one who's first language is not English.
"He is a risk."
"But a necessary one."
"There are others who could serve."
"But if he performs well, he could be of so much more assistance later."
"He is not ready."
"He will be. Or he will spend his last moments regretting it."
"I hope you are right. Things are falling into place too neatly. There is something coming to upset our plans. We must be ready. Our enemies are not ignorant of our plans."
"They are powerless. Chained by their own absurd morality. All will turn out well for us."
"Perhaps."