Banner by Vampkiss
Banner by Vampkiss
Chapter 52
Giles looked at the three weary teenagers and reluctantly
called a halt to their research session, his announcement meeting with groans of
complaint that they’d yet to find anything substantial. No one had left the
library all day, except for Xander. And that, only for food. His impromptu hint
that Buffy could be pulled back to their time was the driving force keeping the
group at it, their fingers flipping through page after page of the assorted
tomes littering the library table. But, it was late, the children trying to hide
yawns behind their hands, unwilling to give up without having found an answer to
their latest predicament. And, though he would have like to continue, Giles knew
that nothing more could be done this night.
He held up his hand, forestalling any further comment from Willow.
“Cordelia, I trust you can make it home safely.”
The cheerleader looked up from one of the books she’d been reading, marking her
spot so she would know where to begin tomorrow.
“Yeah, sure.” Cordelia closed the book, rising to her feet. She flipped her
long, brown hair over her shoulder and straightened the wrinkles from her skirt,
somehow managing to look spectacular even after having spent the entire day, and
a good portion of her evening, seated around the library table.
“Very good, then. I’ll run Willow and Xander home. Let me just grab a few things
before I lock up and we can all walk out together.”
Giles retrieved his briefcase from his office, stuffing a few of the books he’d
been perusing inside. The others he left where they were for tomorrow. It would
be Sunday, so there was no chance of someone coming in behind them.
“No buts, we can continue this tomorrow,” he told them, upon encountering Willow
and Xander’s stony expressions, latching his briefcase closed.
“But, Giles—” Willow began, completely ignoring Giles’ dictate.
“Willow…” He paused a moment, pulling off his glasses to wipe wearily at his
eyes. “I understand your concern, really, I do. But you all need your rest.
You’ll be no help to Buffy like this. If it makes you feel better, I’ll be here
bright and early in the morning.”
“But what about Buffy’s mom? I think Buffy said she was supposed to be back from
her trip tomorrow evening,” Willow added, hoping the news would change the
watcher’s mind. She really didn’t want to leave. Not until they’d found the
means to bring her friend back.
“Have faith, Willow.” He laid a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’ll
figure it out in the morning, and Buffy will be back with us before you know
it.”
Willow looked up at Giles, her eyes beseeching the older man to bring her friend
back. And soon. At his confident look, she nodded hesitantly.
“Now, come…it really is getting rather late, and I don’t want to worry your
parents.”
Willow sighed and nodded again, saying nothing as she turned and headed towards
the library doors.
“No chance of that,” Xander muttered under his breath, falling into step behind
her.
~*~*~*~*~
“What the hell is that?” Derrick muttered to his mate when the group approached
the tiny blue abomination trying to pass itself off as a vehicle. They both
watched the brunette female unlock the door and slide behind the driver’s seat
of the red convertible. The engine roared to life, and a moment later it tore
out of the school parking lot, mocking the ancient relic left waiting for its
passengers to climb inside.
“It’s a car, you ass,” Esme drolled, deadpan.
“You sure ‘bout that?”
The vampiress rolled her eyes. Though, she had to admit, he did have a point.
Didn’t the Watcher’s Council pay those in their employ? And talk about
conspicuous! The car stood out like a sore thumb. She patted Derrick on the
shoulder, commenting, “Look on the bright side. The thing probably doesn’t get
over 35 so it’ll be easy for you to keep up.”
“Wha? Keep up? Wait! Hey!” Derrick griped, but she’d already disappeared – her
destination the redheaded girl’s house. Grumbling under his breath, he set out
after the vehicle, easily keeping pace while maintaining his cover. The tiny,
sputtering car pulled to a stop outside a drab, single-story home, and Derrick
watched as the boy, Xander, unfolded himself from the passenger seat and waved a
goodbye to the others. He caught sight of Byron lurking in the shadows and the
two shared a look between one another.
How the group managed to survive outside Buffy’s influence was a wonder to both
vampires. True, Xander wasn’t a Slayer, or for that matter, even graced with
extraordinary fighting abilities, but, he was aware of things that went
bump in the night, and his nonchalant attitude as he sidled up his walkway drew
looks of amazement from the vampires standing guard over him. Derrick did give a
smidgeon of credit to the watcher for waiting until the boy had gone inside
before puttering off in his relic. With a silent wave to Byron, he was gone.
At the redhead’s house, Derrick took a moment to grope his mate before leaving
her with a lust-filled expression – eyes at half mast, lips swollen, a small
drop of blood that pooled on the plump surface when their desire had gotten the
best of them and twin sets of fangs had elongated. A look that quickly turned to
calculating retribution when he reluctantly made his excuses and hurried after
the watcher. He smirked, his back to her, of course – wouldn’t do for her to
witness his pleasure of her “left wanting” status, there’d really be hell to pay
then – knowing they’d make up for it later, once the sun was up and they were
secure within their fortress, the surveillance cameras taking over in their
absence.
Upon his arrival at the watcher’s flat, he was pleased to see the elder man take
a bit more care with his surroundings. Suitcase in one hand and a crucifix in
the other while he made haste to his front door and inside, the sound of the
bolt sliding home, loud in the vampire’s ears. Satisfied Buffy’s watcher was
safely ensconced within, Derrick checked the various cameras hidden around the
man’s home, receiving an affirmative via his headset from Adam that all appeared
in working order.
His job done, Derrick stealthily made his way back to the building that would be
their indefinite home.
~*~
Alric eyed the newcomer with some interest. It had been
chance that had taken him by the Sunnydale airport, a niggling at the back of
his neck, almost like sensing Spike nearby. Or Buffy. His eyes widened in
astonishment as he witnessed a young woman emerge from the cargo hold, her eyes
scanning the surrounding area with equal parts fascination and wariness.
‘Well, this certainly throws a monkey wrench into things,’ he thought to
himself, watching the dark-skinned Slayer intently – the stake clutched tightly
in her hand as she’d jumped down from the airplane a dead giveaway to her
identity. That, and the warning tinglies that told him one was near.
Buffy and Spike needed to hurry back…. and soon. Once the group had settled into
their newfound roles after dealing with the situation in London those many years
ago, they had taken great pains to avoid being anywhere in the vicinity of the
current Chosen One. Hell, if Buffy had had her way, they’d be on opposite sides
of the globe to avoid any type of contact. But, Spike had put his foot down when
his wife had wanted to uproot them to the northernmost reaches of the Yukon one
time, just because a Slayer had been called in Greece, and they’d happened to be
there at the time. The resulting row had been spectacular…
Spike had eventually compromised and taken them to Japan, and later, Russia,
instead. If Buffy wanted snow, he’d give her snow. Just in a more civilized
area…say one with actual buildings and decent modes of transportation. Not to
mention food. She’d griped at first, in a pout even Renee had been unable to
break her from, but she’d come out of her funk, her eyes bright with excitement
upon bringing home a Ronin warrior, a masterless samurai, like he was some
stray, claiming he’d be teaching the group a new form of fighting. Alric had to
admit, he’d enjoyed every lesson the bushi had dished out – they all had. When
it had come time to leave several years later, they’d entrusted the care of
their home to the warrior, a task he’d taken on with pride. Even now, Tashiro
watched over the place, his burial mound at the top of a hill overlooking their
home. A home they’d rarely seen since leaving. Surprisingly, one he’d missed the
most, even more that his father’s estate in London. Maybe it had been the few
years of relative peace they’d had while living there.
Pushing those idyllic thoughts aside, Alric concentrated on the new Slayer, his
mind mulling over the appearance of a second while following behind at a
discreet distance. He tracked her to an abandoned warehouse, where he watched
her curl herself in a ball in the corner, her hands clutching a wicked-looking
stake as she drifted off to asleep. Another few minutes, and he’d disappeared as
soundlessly as he’d arrived, doing a last quick circuit of Sunnydale before
returning to the others.
They’d have a lot to discuss once the group reconvened and had given their
respective reports.
The first of which being whether or not they aided the watcher in his Slayer’s
retrieval from the past.
~*~*~*~*~
The group had filled each another in on their respective assignments. The
revelation of Angel’s appearance at the warehouse where Spike and his sire had
taken up residence had met with some raised brows. But, it was Alric’s news that
there was a new Slayer in town that had sparked the heated debate, several of
the gathered vampires gaining their feet to pace in agitation while arguing
their point.
“It’s not like we’d have to actually hand the watcher the information,”
Clayton reasoned, ever the peacemaker in the bunch. “A note strategically placed
in a book he’s reading, perhaps?”
“Who’s to say the watcher won’t figure it out on his own?” Derrick interjected.
“Now that he seems to be on the right track, I don’t think it’s too farfetched
that he’ll find the solution in the near future.”
“Yeah, but in the meantime, we’ll be dodging not only Spike’s sire, who is a
seer of sorts, by the way, but his grandsire as well. Throw in the Slayer…”
Alric’s voice trailed off, his point made.
“Alric is right,” Adam added. “Besides, who’s to say we weren’t the ones that
had a hand in bringing her back?”
“I don’t even want to consider the ramifications of that one,” Byron groaned.
“I’ll second that thought,” Joseph added.
“I wish Renee were here. She was very insightful when it came to Buffy’s
decisions,” Angelina murmured quietly, her hand tightly grasping that of her
mate’s. “Marcus, you were close with the Slayer, what do you think she would
want us to do?”
“We’re all close with the Slayer, petal,” he corrected. The soft caress of his
fingers upon her cheek took any sting out of the gentle rebuke.
“I know that… but… you know what I mean.”
And Marcus did. He remembered fondly the Slayer telling him in no uncertain
terms of his waiting period before he could begin “courting” the girl who was
now his life mate. How she’d told him later, much later, that she’d tricked him
into the month by intentionally overdemanding the time he’d have to stew. But,
it was later, in their joint grief over his sister’s senseless murder that the
two had grown closer. She’d taken the place of his little Celeste – not that
he’d ever dare admit it aloud. In truth, Buffy had become his closest friend,
discounting his mate, and both could talk to the other about anything.
It wasn’t that he didn’t share his troubles and concerns with the others, it was
just that Buffy was the first one he went to, and he respected her human “take”
on things… not that being with them for so long hadn’t worn off on her to some
degree. But, she was more inclined to just listen, whereas the others would be
quick to offer suggestions. He liked that about her, how she just sat there,
more of a sounding board for him to reach his own decisions about things.
He’d missed her these past years – even knowing that they’d all be seeing her
again. Spike, too. The group had faltered for a bit in their absence. And Marcus
knew that if it hadn’t been for Angelina, he would have done what Renee had
done…
Shaking himself from his morose thoughts, he gave his mate’s hand a squeeze and
looked at the others.
“You all know Buffy’s feelings about us being anywhere in the vicinity of a
Slayer. I say we give the watcher a helping hand and minimize the time spent
waiting for Buffy and Spike’s return. Let our Sire decide our course of action
once he and Buffy return,” Marcus told them. He made eye contact with each of
the group seated at the table, his expression telling them without words that a
chance encounter with this new Slayer would mean her certain death. The group
couldn’t afford to have word of their presence get out. A run-in with a Master
Vampire of their caliber would spark discussion between Slayer and watcher.
And that was something to be avoided at all costs.