Graile Chapter Six - Secrets in Sunnydale

By: MacBeth

Disclaimers: Jack, Vincent, Aki, Deanna, and Graile are mine. Everything else belongs to those who worked so hard to bring their characters from the Ether.
Archives: Paradox761, Slightly Over The Edge. Otherwise, Take but please, tell me.
Feedback: Falsehoods become fact when no one points them out. Criticism is very welcome. Thank you for what has been sent.
Thanks: Oracle, for inspiring Aki; My sis, D, for being Deanna; and to Oz, for being Oz (and inspiring Lucius).

* * *

Rosenberg Residence, Sunnydale, California, 3pm.

Xander Harris had been to his childhood friend’s home countless times in years gone by. And every time felt strange, like he was some bizarre intruder. Like he was unworthy to enter a house belonging to people so much higher on the evolutionary ladder, compared to his own stereotypical dysfunctional family. Of course the blatant neglect the Rosenberg’s showed their daughter, Willow, eased his discomfort some. Her pride at being a "Latchkey Kid" always brought a smile to Xander’s face, "Quirky, thy name is Willow."

Willow fought down the urge to hyperventilate over what she and her best friend were about to do, invade her Father’s study. Xander noticed his best friend’s hesitance and placed a calming hand on her shoulder, "Relax Willow, we’re only here to find those papers, not embezzle your trust fund." He whispered, putting her fears at ease.

"I know, but it still feels weird. Because I know I’m not supposed to go in here without Dad being home and I know were only getting those papers, but what if they aren’t even in there? What if he put the papers into his safe? I don’t know the combination and we’ll have to try and crack the safe’s combination to open it. But then we would be breaking the law and my dad could have us arrested and I really don’t want to go to jail because then I’d miss school and have bad marks on my record and I’d never find those water moccasins for the Prison showers in my size because you know I have trouble finding shoes that fit because I really do have small feet." Xander held back laughter as his best friend launched into a full-blown babblefest that lasted the entire trip from the front door to the door to her Father’s study.

"Finished?" He asked, knowing this was a common occurrence.

"Uh huh. I’ll look in the desk." Willow replied, blushing mildly and acting as though nothing bizarre had happened.

"Filing cabinet it is." He mumbled, moving towards the heavy oak cabinet. Trying the handle, Xander growled at its lock. Pulling his jackknife from his pants pocket, he was about to jimmy the lock when Willow hissed at him.

"Don’t break it, Dad brought that cabinet all the way back from Brussels. He would seriously disown me if that was so much as scratched." Willow pleaded with Xander.

"You’re practically disowned already Will," he thought to himself, but simply nodded and gently eased the lockbolt upwards with the tip of the knife. Opening the seven-foot tall locker, Xander checked each sliding drawer and map nook with no results. Willow turned back and lifted the top of the roll top desk and rooted through the incredibly neat interior. She checked each of the immaculate piles of bills, paperwork, and memos. After finally searching the last stack of papers, Willow sighed in dejected disappointment. All that worrying for nothing, yet she kept feeling like something was missing.

Not that there was much to miss in the office, the spacious antique roll top desk sat in the corner, next to a wicker waist bin, the armoire like cabinet Xander leaned against stood across the room with a mere inch of clearance for the door. Across the doorway hung a watercolor by a grateful patient of Dr. Rosenberg’s and beneath that a small loveseat. A large plate glass window gave anyone seated on the loveseat a splendid view of the neighborhood and the genuine Persian rug on the floor. A large, scoop necked Mexican vase sat in the corner holding a tall, expensive looking, plastic palm.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Why would your father have a plastic palm tree instead of a real one?" Xander asked, as an idea struck him. "Every other plant in the house is alive."

Without a word, Willow kneeled before the pot and gripped the two-inch thick trunk with both hands. Gritting her teeth, she pulled hard on the thin plastic tree. To say she was surprised when the tree and two inches of false soil popped out of the vase with little effort would be an understatement. The whippy leafed branches slapped Xander across the face as the tree fell onto the red headed hacker. Xander helped his best friend to right the tree and looked into the hollow vase’s depths. Willow reached in and pulled out a single slip of folded paper.

Disappointment flooded the two friends. Unfolding the paper, she read the short message:

If you’re reading this, then you’re early. Come back for this after October 12th 2000.

The Dark One.

Xander turned to willow in disbelief, "I don’t know about you, but I wanna move. How about Miami?"

Willow shook her head in shock. "This town is too odd. Who could possibly be interested in Legal papers that have to do with me? Besides my Father?"

"What about that vamp Buffy told us about? Griddle?"

"Jack’s probably interested." He mumbled beneath his breath, almost immediately regretting it.

"What?" came a rather stern reply. "What about Jack?"

"Every time You and Jack are in the same room, his eyes are stapled to your butt." Xander replied, barely managing to keep the jealousy out of his voice. Kneeling, he replaced the paper in the vase and settled the tree into place as Willow shook her head.

"You mean Buffy’s butt, not my butt, my butt never gets eyes stapled to it" she stuttered, well on her way to yet another full blown babble fit. Snapping his fingers before her eyes, Xander halted her mental train before it left the station.

"I meant your butt Will, You’ve noticed. Besides, Jack and Buffy are like you and me. All friendship love, no Romancy type love." Xander reaffirmed, giving said butt a friendly swat as he passed her out the front door. Willow stood behind for a moment, realizing that Xander’s open denial of intimacy didn’t seem to bother her anymore.

"For that, you’re buying the Mochas." Willow announced and with a half grin, she followed her best friend to the sidewalk. * * * Laurie Marie, Dock 13 10 pm.

Boots scraped along the deck as the squat pudgy figured move to the portside aft stairwell and shuffled downwards. Imps formed from raw darkness and the corrupting Influence from below decks scurried out of the man’s way as he walked from the stairwell into the ship’s primary hold. The Ship’s hold was a vast cavernous chamber, empty of everything save a bloodstained Iron altar draped with a heavy black cloth. A slim, state of the art laptop lay open atop the altar, powered up and waiting. A Screen saver program of cascading glyphs shifted colors across the screen.

A Bolchrast Demon dared to step closer to the pudgy human and gingerly held out a thick bundle of dark purple cloth, his distance due more to the human’s odor than out of reverence. As the man wiped his greasy hands on the legs of his brown trousers and the waist of his sweat stained dress shirt, the demon could barely refrain from snapping the neck of the insultingly inferior mortal before it. With his four thickly muscled arms and needle tipped scorpion-like tail, the Demon, Shindo by name, was quite aware that he could make this waste of protoplasm’s final moments excruciatingly painful indeed.

Wendell Lieberman knelt before the reverently placed laptop and bowed his head. "Master." The portly sycophant wiped the remnants of a quart of Egg Drop soup from his chins and steeled himself for a wave of neural pain that was normally a prelude to his Liege’s wrath.

A Digital image of a massively horned demon appeared in the plasma screen, eyes blazing with an infernal light. "Wendell, my devoted acolyte. How long has it been since this backup was made?" came the digitally enhanced voice from several well concealed high definition speakers.

"Nine days, Master. We had to be certain that the Slayer didn’t know of your back up." The sweaty acolyte stammered, wary of the Demon’s wrath.

"Yes. Nine days since the Slayer destroyed my body. How goes the reconstruction of my Divine form?"

"I have personally arranged for the construction of your new body to begin, as soon as the new shipment of processors and servos arrive."

"The Net link?"

"Well, um, Master; Finding a link up system that can withstand your um unique energy signature without overloading has been more difficult than originally thoug.. AAAAHHHH!!!!" his excuses were cut off as Moloch released a torrent of agony into Wendell’s mind, dark twisted pain straight out of a Giger painting.

"I don’t want to hear excuses you pathetic worm. I have given you freedom from that nagging bitch you impregnated then married and those two squabbling hell spawn you call daughters. I freed you from your mistakes, and you repay me by leaving me to rot in this silicon hell!" the digital voice too on a disturbingly realistic tone as another wave of agony shot through the overweight computer analyst turned zealot.

"Please mas, master. I beg your, your forgiveness." Lieberman blubbered before the enshrined computer, alternating between weeping in pathetic fear and pain. "We’re trying to hijack a T3 unit, but I’ve been unable to <sniffle> find any vampires to further your goals. Master."

"What do you mean? I give you love, freedom and power, and you can’t convince a single Vampire to perform a single theft?" the Demon’s voice became more plaintive, pleading.

"No Master, we can’t find any vampires period." Sensing another wave of displeasure from the digital demon, he stammered out an excuse, "Not even the Master will subcontract any of his minions. He’s sequestered all of his servants to his section of the sewers and only lets out his human thralls for blood runs. Master, I swear, we’ll establish a strong enough link for you to enlighten the world to your benevolence. Please Master, forgive me." The sheer pitiful groveling would have turned the Demon’s stomach; if he had one, that is.

"I forgive you, Wendell. Go now to Willy’s bar, Take Shindo with you. Find someone to retrieve that which shall be mine and hurry. Go now my faithful servant, go with my love." The demon’s eyes flashed on the final word and Wendell experienced an intense moment of euphoric pleasure. Before Wendell fully came down off his high, Moloch gave him a final command. "Wendell, on your way back, bring me a mahjong program."

"As you wish Master." Wendell babbled in between fits of giggles as he stood and scurried away before his Master changed the feeling from one of pleasure to one of incredible horror.

Shindo, his form rapidly fading into that of a non-descript human male teenager, looked up into the pixilated image of his liege master, "Mahjong, Sire?"

"I’m sick of solitaire." * * * Apartment of Rupert Giles 10pm.

Buffy Summers sat back in stunned silence, her mind working at a faster speed than normal to process everything her friend Jack had told her. Rupert Giles slumped slightly in his wing-backed chair and held back a serious urge to throttle the young Irishman who leaned almost casually against his fireplace. Giles' grandfather slumped heavily on the sofa, rubbing the bridge of his nose at the brusque nature of his friend's confession.

Jack Covington sighed as he watched the three reactions to the last three hours of explanation. He had expressed every iota of information that had been deemed relevant all those years ago. Covering everything from Divine mechanics to temporal mechanics, to Finally, revealing his reason for being in Sunnydale and for seeking out the Slayer nearly half a year ago.

"So our entire friendship has been a, a, a," The slayer struggled for the right word.

"Farce." Her Watcher supplied as he fingered the Jambiya he used as a letter opener.

"Right, a Farce."

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "I've just spent the better part of tonight telling you almost everything and you think it's all been an act. You have never before struck me as being so monumentally ignorant."

Buffy stood and assumed a very aggressive position before Jack, "You fuck with my memories not once but five times and then you call me ignorant? Give me one reason I shouldn't beat the holy hell out of you right now." "One reason?" Jack answered as his eyes started to glow deep blue. "Somnus." As Buffy fell bonelessly to the floor, deeply asleep, Giles leapt out of his chair and slammed the young man against the cold fireplace, the marble mantle digging into the Irishman’s chest. "What did you do?" he snarled into the man's ear, pushing him harder against the mantle, using his forearm as a ram against Jack's shoulder blades. "What did you do to her!?"

"Rupert. Put him down." Vincent said calmly.

Giles snapped his head towards his grandfather in anger. "And You! When were you going to tell me? I’m your bloody grandson for Christ's sake! You could have told me you were infected!"

Vincent simply sighed and stood, with little effort he pulled his grandson bodily from Jack and held them apart. "Jack. Do what you were going to do then explain yourself to Rupert." The Scotsman leaned down and picked up his glass of scotch, suddenly very thirsty. Jack nodded, pressed two fingertips to Buffy left temple and closed his eyes. Infinite seconds passed and Giles watched in anger, unable to break his grandfather's iron grip. Standing, Jack looked Giles directly in the eye, "Giles, what I have done was necessary. She isn't ready to consciously know the information I've revealed to her tonight."

"So you wipe her memory like a blackboard!" Giles snapped accusingly.

"Oh, do shut up." he replied to the Englishman, then seeing Vincent's glare he sighed. "I have never erased memories; hers or anyone else’s. It’s beyond my skill in Mentalism. I’m completely incapable of doing that; I’ve simply pushed certain memories and the knowledge I have revealed from her conscious mind to her subconscious. She still retains the information yet she cannot actively remember it." As he explained himself, Vincent released his grandson and sank back down onto the couch. Giles looked down at the slumbering Slayer in concern. "Giles. If you never believe another thing I tell you, believe this. I will never hurt Buffy. I don't think I'm capable of it anymore." The tone of Jack’s voice shook the Englishman to the core before a familiar grin crept onto his features. "Besides, If I didn’t trust you, I’d have given your own memories a push."

Buffy started to come out of her arcane sleep with soft groans as she stretched. Knowing the Slayer would question her being sprawled on the floor, Jack made a short intricate gesture and Buffy regressed minutely back into slumber. He then hurriedly picked the Slayer up off the floor and placed her lengthwise on the sofa, bending her legs at the knees to allow room for Macleod.

"Wha? Oh, Sorry about that," she yawned, "Didn't realize I was so sleepy. What time is it?" Buffy asked sleepily. She stretched her neck out and rolled her shoulders. Giles moved to say something when Vincent gripped his arm and squeezed sharply.

"About ten thirty." Jack said, helping Buffy to her feet. "Damn! Jack. Graile said to meet him in the hold of, um, some ship. At the docks." she tried to remember which ship. "Laurie something."

"I take it he told you he wanted me there alone?" Jack asked as he moved to pull his bomber jacket off the coat hook.

"He may have said something like that, but you know me, I tend to miss the important details." She shrugged with a wicked glimmer in her eyes. "Not a word Giles," she mumbled after hearing the Englishman snort.

Jack pulled on his jacket and locked eyes with Giles. "We’ll be back soon Giles, Vincent."

Buffy pulled the door open to reveal a startled Xander with a raised hand.

"Thanks for saving me from knocking, Buff." Xander said, in lieu of greeting. Looking to Jack, he continued speaking to Buffy, "Can we talk for a minute?" Jack noted a faint flicker of mistrust in the young man’s eyes.

"Uh sure. Jack, I’ll meet you at the car." Buffy edged out, looking at Xander curiously. As Jack moved past the three teenagers, he briefly locked eyes with Willow.

A feeling of pity struck the redhead at the sheer pain deep in Jack’s eyes. Buffy spied the look in Willow’s eyes and resolved to have a long talk with her best friend. "Maybe Jack’s right. I should tell her."

As Jack moved towards his car, the three friends walked into the Watcher’s apartment. Closing the door, Xander started to reveal the lack of Legal papers and the "Dark One " note to Buffy before stopping short at seeing Macleod. "Giles’ Grandfather?" he stage whispered to Buffy.

"Yes. Xander, Willow, this is Vincent Macleod, Giles’ Grandfather. Mr. Macleod, Alexander Harris and Willow Rosenberg." Buffy introduced her friends to the elderly Scotsman before opening the front door. "Well guys, Jack and I are after Graile. You three stay here." Seeing her two best friends about to protest, she held up her hand. "I’m not hearing any argument this time." After receiving three nods of assent, she pulled Angel’s leather coat on and closed the door behind her. Realization that she was on her way to hunt down and confront an Elder vampire well over two thousand years old dawned on the young Slayer. "I should have told her." Numbly, she walked slowly to Jack’s midnight black car.

Giles reluctantly let the Slayer go and turned to the two who were chatting politely with his grandfather. "Any luck finding those legal papers?" he asked, sipping his now tepid Lap sang.

Xander shook his head. "We found where they were kept, but someone beat us to them."

Willow leaned over at the wais and rubbed her ankles through her socks. "All we found was a note telling us to come back in 2000. And get this, it was signed the "Dark One". Now from what Buffy told me about her run in with Graile last night, it could have been him. She said he had dark skin." * * *

Jack sat in the driver’s seat of his Cutlass for a brief time and watched the three friends walk into the Englishman’s flat. A tingle passed over the back of his neck and he counted off three fingers. The Car phone rang as if on cue, and after hitting the speaker button, a much too chipper voice came clearly from the visor speaker. "Evening Jack."

"Aki."

"Oh, goody, I’ve caught you in one of your more talkative moods." Silence answered the mocha-skinned girl. "Anyhoo, Pike’s healing nicely, but the Hunter got away."

"Any idea who that Hunter was?"

"A few. Deanna thinks it was Ash, but you and I both know she never hunts the just hearted. Lucy and I think it’s Renard again, the froggy git. You got any ideas Boss?" In New York Aki stretched out while upside down in Jack’s favorite leather recliner, her heavily buried English accent poking through her end of the conversation.

"Ask around for Cho Minn’s location that night. And don’t call Lucius "Lucy". He hates that."

"Which is why I do it, speaking of Mr. Inflatable Muscles, he’s banned me from the Kitchen again."

"Were you making Tea again?" Jack grinned.

Aki, sensing the oncoming teasing over her rather pungent tea, noticed Deanna standing two feet from her head, tapping the toe of her boot in wait. "I think Deanna wants to talk with you."

Jack grinned at the rather pathetic subject change. "Put her on, and Aki?"

"Yeah Jack?"

"Be Good."

"No." came the cheerful reply as she handed the phone to the tall, dark haired Vampiress and scampered out of the room.

Deanna shook her head for a moment and spoke into the phone, "Jack?"

"Aki gone?"

"Yes. Jack, in all of my 140 odd years on this planet I have never seen someone scamper before tonight."

"I’m going to ignore that. What’s happening?" The Irishman asked, already knowing at least one answer already.

"Well, we’re out of blood, Pike isn’t healing fast enough, The Vatican has called again, and Mayor Guiliani called, there are reports of "Giant Rats" in the Bronx sewers again."

"Danforth’s Tribe return?" Jack nodded as the Slayer opened the passenger door and slid onto the supple leather seat.

Deanna snorted in derision. "Not after Aki threatened to magically tamper his broodmares to produce tailless litters. That’s one Wererat who’s never coming to a Yankee’s game again."

"Call Lazuli’s Butcher Shop in Brooklyn for blood, Pike is healing just fine, what does his Holiness’ Emissary want now?" Jack asked almost robotically, his tone lacking any shred of curiosity.

Buffy interrupted the electronic conversation, "What do you mean Pike’s healing just fine? What happened to him?"

As he was about to answer, Deanna beat him to it. "A Hunter got a lucky blow in with a Jade Axe, If you Must know," Her tone not helping Buffy to restrain her anger.

Jack hit the Mute button. "Sorry about D, She’s still a little sore about you and Pike."

Buffy shook her head, "Pike and I were never that serious."

"That’s Deanna for you, she’s… Territorial."

Buffy pinched the bridge of her nose at the misdirecting nature of her friend. "Jack. Tell me everything. Right now." She bit each word out slowly, her hand instinctively forming a fist in response to her anger.

"Four months ago, Pike was bitten by a Weretiger who happens to be… An acquaintance of mine. It was completely voluntary, I assure you. The why is Pike’s business. He simply requested to keep you out of it for as long as possible." Jack replied before hitting the mute button on the car phone and shifting into drive, jetting out into the night towards the Pier. "D, what does His Eminence want this month?"

The Slayer sensed that was all she’d get from the Irishman and resolved to have a very long telephone conversation with her old boyfriend. She leaned back in the front seat and checked the stake up the sleeve of her jacket.

"The Tabard of St. George." The Vampire answered, struggling not to laugh.

"You have got to be kidding me…" The disbelief in his voice was blatant.

"Yeah, why not ask for the Crown of Thorns." She sniffed in amusement.

"No, I meant they already have the Tabard. It’s in their Vaults. They keep worse records than a Pimp’s accountant."

"They already have it? Should we tell them?"

Jack grinned devilishly. "Why? Tell Cardinal Benschotti that we’ll take the Op. This is a good time to reclaim the Scrolls of Sappho, a Dark Rose seedling, and the Helm of Gilgamesh."

Buffy shook her head in disbelief, "Jack, I may not completely understand what you and Deanna are talking about, but please tell me you’re not going to rob the Vatican." The silence in the convertible was deafening even with the top down. Jack’s finger hovered over the disconnect button on the car phone. "Oh…God."

"Bye Deanna." Click. * * *

Willow sat timidly on Giles’ couch; well aware of the scrutiny Vincent was putting her under. Xander sat next to his lifelong friend holding the kukri Giles had held on to; blissfully oblivious to her discomfort as he held an in-depth discussion with the old Scotsman about the Harley Davidson parked out front. Rupert stood in the kitchen of his bachelor pad, trying to make tea while keeping his hands from shaking. "I just stood by as my charge has gone hunting for an Elder Vampire." He thought to himself. "I just killed Buffy Summers." That thought struck him like a physical blow. Walking into the Living room, he nodded to Xander. "We’ve waited long enough, let’s go." * * *

Following Jack’s convertible to the docks proved to be a challenge to the Englishman. His Citroen seemed to crawl along the highway, filled as it was with himself, Xander, Willow, and his Grandfather, not to mention a long sword, Giles’ crossbow, a bag of stakes, and Vincent’s Mossberg M590 slide action shotgun. The silence within the British import was deafening. Xander turned around in the forward passenger seat and looked dead in Vincent’s eyes. "I’ve gotta know, When did you meet Jack?"

The old Scotsman grinned and thought back for a moment. "Before I answer that question, let me explain about my affliction."

Willow reflexively edged away from him in the cramped confines of Giles’s auto. "What affliction?"

"Vincent has Lycanthropy; Specifically, of the Asian Tiger strain of the disease." Giles sounded hurt, angry, and very afraid for his grandfather.

"Very good Rupert. I was… infected, in Northwestern India. After a fierce battle in a heavily forested valley, in which I was seeking a Key Stone of Shangri-la, I was resting with a bottle of scotch when Aiukio Tetsuro reclined beside me" his voice drifted off as he remembered the encounter. "What happened afterwards is none of your business." He grinned.

Giles sighed in relief, "Your infection was accidental."

"Not quite Rip. I knew full well that I would be infected."

After Giles regained control of the car after nearly swerving into a steep earthen Embankment he sputtered, "You WHAT?"

Vincent nearly snarled in disapproval. "Rupert Anthony Giles! There are children in this vehicle, either control yourself or pull to the side of the road."

Even as an adult, his Grandfather using his middle name in That tone was still filled with enough authority to fill him with shame, remembering that Xander and Willow were also in the car only made him feel worse. "I’m sorry Grandfather."

Xander received one of his few moments of incredible insight. "Uh, Mr. Macleod."

"We’re not related Xander, you can call me Vince."

"Vince, you didn’t answer my question."

"I was about to, you’re a very impatient young man." His disarming smile took the sting out of his words. "The battle took place about ten years after the Emerald Fire of 1875."

Xander ceased breathing for a short time. "That would make you…"

"Well over one hundred and fifty yeas old, yes I know."

"Emerald what?" Willow asked in confusion. "I’ve never heard of that."

"The Emerald Fire was a phenomenon that occurred on January 1st of 1875. A Drunk and a nocturnally wandering priest were witnesses. They reported a giant green pillar of fire in the center of Stonehenge. It’s widely discredited among the more conventional Occult Investigators.

"So the lycan," Xander hesitated over the word.

"Lycanthropy."

"Right, the Lycanthropy kept you young all this time?" Xander started to sound curious.

"Well, oh. We’re here." The Vincent sounded relieved that the questioning was over. * * *

Wendell Lieberman was lazy at heart, only motivated when time was short. So naturally, he left the relatively comfortable confines of the freighter’s Captain’s Cabin. His pudgy framed moved sluggishly down the gangplank and stopped dead in the middle at the cross-armed blonde standing at the foot of the incline.

Behind the diminutive, yet menacing teen stood a tall, muscled young man leaning against the hood of an inky black convertible, a thick bladed gladius hung tight at his side. "You might want to back up there "Cap’n" he called, nodding his head towards the ship as Buffy started to climb. Wendell stood petrified as the Slayer advanced up the walkway. Standing as near as her sense of smell would allow, she shook her head and leapt, flipping over the terrified acolyte and resumed her silent climb upwards.

Jack waited until Buffy moved beyond sight onto the Ship’s deck before starting up the gangway himself. "Wendell Lieberman. In two weeks, you will be reunited with your twelve-year-old daughter. You will then kill her in the most obscene fashion that I have seen in all the time I’ve walked this planet." Jack moved slowly up the way as Wendell slowly started to back up. "I’ve never actually enjoyed murder. I’ve always considered it as lacking in creativity." Before the portly zealot knew what had happened, Jack had dashed up the remaining space between them and stared deeply into his eyes. A long drawn out sound of metal on metal as the large Roman sword appeared and slid up between the two men. "But sometimes… Sometimes it’s necessary." The Irishman whispered, as he and the blade in his gloved hand twisted in place, slicing Wendell clean in half, vertically. Finishing the sword stroke, he sliced the chain lengths along both sides of the gangway; allowing the newly divided acolyte to separate with a sickening "Glick" and fall quietly into the water below. "And satisfying."

Unnoticed behind them, Giles’ Citroen slipped sickly into park and its occupants exited the decomposing British import. By the time the quartet had exited the Citroen, the misshapen lumps of flesh that had been Wendell Lieberman was a mere ripple in the water below. Jack leaned on the gladius, appearing for all the world as though he had wielded his war blade against an entire army. * * *

Buffy moved slowly across the deck of the ship, wary of vampires springing from the shallowest of shadows. Finding an access to the lower decks, she stood very quietly, listening for any sounds before moving cautiously into the darkened hold. Roughly four meters of dark, cramped stairwells let out into a side scaffold into the freighter’s main hold, a vast chamber lit sporadically by wax covered candelabra and bulkhead lights.

Eventually, the Slayer stood before the altar, looking into the digital eyes of a very put out corruption demon. "You know Moloch, I was expecting someone else." * * *

Shindo gripped the railing and looked down at the advancing quintet as they moved up the gangway, biding his time to strike. He leaned forward to pounce, his scorpion-like tail tensed and ready. Eyeing the redhead human walking across the deck, he considered leaving her alive for spawning.

Below the crouching demon, Giles moved slowly across the deck, unknowingly mimicking Buffy’s earlier movements. Vincent moved deliberately towards the Ship’s bridge, seeking the cargo manifest and itinerary. Xander and Willow followed the Watcher, moving solely on fear driven autopilot. Vincent stopped just prior to entering the bridge and sniffed the light wind; his eyes widened as he caught a trace of a very unpleasant scent. The old Scotsman whistled a shrill note and Jack snapped his head towards Vincent, who simply pointed upwards without moving…

Jack nodded and milled around on deck as the three Sunnydale residents moved towards the below decks access and Vincent entered the bridge. When he was certain all eyes save two were averted, Jack made his move, first leaping twelve feet up to grip the railing of the Bridge balcony, he pulled himself over and, perched on the railing, he then leapt straight up again and grabbed the lip of the roof. Keeping an eye on the approaching Demon, he readjusted the grip on his Gladius.

Vincent, having watched the Irishman’s remarkable display of Gymnastics, was struck with inspiration, He moved quickly towards the opposite bridge entrance and called for Xander. When the teenager drew near, he pointed with his Mossberg upwards, "I think Jack could use your help lad, hurry up that ladder, and be wary, there be a Demon lurking.

Xander opened his mouth to ask how he knew a Demon was near when the old man tapped his nose and blinked repeatedly, his eyes shifting from human, to cat-like, and back to human. Xander nodded and moved to the ladder, slinging the crossbow over his shoulder.

He began to climb the ladder, resolving to try and stop asking stupid questions. As he moved up the ladder, dim sounds he could barely hear began to sound clearer, a vigorous battle was being waged atop the Bridge, battle cries sounded in between growls and snarls, both human and Demon. Peeking over the lip of the building, he saw Jack slash downward with his long blade, only to have it stopped cold by a black metal buckler strapped to one of the demon’s left forearms.

Unslinging the crossbow, Xander set the weapon flat on the lip of the roof and aimed it carefully towards the very unsettling monster fighting one of his new friends. Pulling the trigger, the bolt flew the short distance in a blink, and lodged half it’s length deep into the Demon’s left side, roughly where a human’s kidney would have been. The Demon roared in pain and reacted, turning to snarl at the pesky human, giving Jack the window he wanted to cleave its lower left hand off at the wrist. Xander reloaded the crossbow and nearly fell off the ladder when Shindo reared on him. * * *

Buffy stood with arms crossed having an incredibly pointless conversation with the trapped demon, as Giles and Willow walked confusedly towards the Slayer, constantly looking around the cavernous hold for Moloch’s minions. "The ship’s empty, guys. Apparently, Graile led us here a bit early." The slayer said, not breaking eye contact with the digital demon.

Giles’ resheathed the long sword with a sigh of relief. "Buffy, please explain just what is going on."

Willow nodded in agreement, moving closer to the laptop before noticing whose curved horned visage was pixilated on screen. "Moloch!"

The demon focused on the redhead, and winced, knowing that this, his last incarnation, was doomed. Returning his focus to the Slayer, the red lights of his eyes narrowed. "Know this Slayer. Had I one tenday more, you would now be facing my new body and victory would have been mine. But before you kill me, I must know one thing."

Buffy, being in a good mood from not having to fight anything, shrugged. "Shoot."

"How did you find me?" his voice lacking any shred of dignity or intimidation.

"A very old Vampire tricked me. He told me he would be here."

"The Master betrayed me?" Moloch’s outrage was plainly evident.

Willow moved closer, confident that Buffy would stop "Malcom’s" true self from harming her anymore. "Not the Master. Graile led us here. Ever heard of him?"

"Graile?’

"Yeah, he’s supposedly a Vampire from Nero’s day. He…" Willow was interrupted by Moloch’s rant.

"Yes I know who Graile is you pathetic vermin! Graile Kaer T’Carrock is one of the oldest Vampires on this planet! He was terrorizing humanity since before your Religion was founded. "Miss Rosenberg". And if Graile is truly involved with any of you, then I’m pleased to leave this plane of existence so painlessly." The Demon sounded almost relieved as a shutdown window popped up, obscuring the Demon’s face.

"Wait," Willow pleaded, "What do you mean he’s older than my religion? There were Hebrew around long before Caesar!"

"Graile isn’t Roman."

"Then where is he from?" Willow felt like she was on to something.

"Babylon." Were the Demon’s final words before the shutdown window popped up again, this time terminating the slim laptop and darkening the screen.

Stunned silence followed for a brief moment. Buffy drew the short sword from Giles’ belt and raised the blade to finally purge Earth from Moloch’s influence for good. Giles barely halted the Slayer’s strike as an idea struck him profoundly. "Buffy wait. I have an idea." * * *

Xander looked down at the Demon’s corpse and blew out a tired breath. "That. Was a Big demon." He mumbled, rubbing his shoulder where the Demon had kicked him. He bent down and pried his kukri out of the Bolchrast’s neck, jamming it there after getting a lucky hit in and slicing the stinger off its tail. "Have I mentioned how glad I am that you sharpened this thing?" he asked, turning to the young Irishman who was nursing a deep cut on his right forearm from a lucky talon scratch.

Jack nodded, winded from the fight; he pulled his large gladius from the Demon’s ribcage and looked at the stinger sticking out of it’s neck. "What possessed you to think of using the stinger against it?"

"Discovery Channel. Didja know a scorpion will sting itself when trapped without a chance of escape?"

"Really? Huh, I learn something new every day." Impressed, Jack gestured for Xander to head down the ladder first. * * * Rupert Giles’ Apartment. 1am.

Jack lay stretched out on Giles couch, with Buffy sitting quite comfortably on his abdomen, while Vincent laughed. Xander and Willow lay sprawled on the floor, Jack and Buffy’s continued familiar camaraderie driving a spike of jealousy deep into the redhead’s heart. Giles sat at his desk, staring at the folded laptop before him, wondering if it truly was the wise thing to do. In the morning, he would ask willow to plunder the Demon’s memory banks, steal as much arcane knowledge and history that they could before finally purging the computer of the Demon’s electronic essence permanently. "That can wait till morning." He thought to himself, as he stood to usher his young charges home and finally get some sleep. * * * 3am.

Giles returned from giving the teens a ride home and nodded to his Grandfather who was sharing a glass of scotch with Jack. "Jack. Moloch said that… Graile was born in Babylon. Is that true?"

Jack nodded and drained his glass, shaking his head at Vincent’s silent gesture for a refill. "According to several texts the Watcher’s Council has probably not allowed you access to, Graile was born in the Merchant’s quarter. His father was a jewel merchant of some renown and his Mother was a slave, speculated to have come from the early tribes of Britania and possibly Eire." He coughed and rubbed his ribs. "Giles, Graile is not a threat to Buffy, no matter what he tells her. I swear to you, The Elder vampire known as Graile will die by my own hands before he harms a hair on any of your children’s heads."

Giles nodded in acceptance. "I take it you’re leaving soon then?"

"Aye. Assuming I can borrow your couch for the night?" seeing an affirmative nod, "Tell B that something came up." And with that, the exhausted Irishman slowed his own breathing and began to fall deeply asleep.

"Before you fall asleep, Jack. I have a question." Two emerald eyes snapped open. "That night at the crypt, when we caught Buffy and Willow in an embrace?"

"Yes…?"

"A storm sprang up rather suddenly; too suddenly for this region. Why do I get the feeling you were involved with that somehow?"

Vincent slapped his forehead in disbelief. "Och, you canna be serious Jack. Tell me you didn’t."

Giles turned between the two in confusion. "Tell you he didn’t do what!"

"Hand it over Jack." The old Scotsman chided. The Irishman reached into the pocket of his bomber jacket and pulled out a small, beaded ovoid wooden charm, which he then tossed to the aggravated Watcher.

Giles looked down at the intricately carved wooden device. "A Fetish?"

Jack sounded very tired, "A Spell fetish, enchanted to hold a one time use spell, to conjure a pretty good sized thunderstorm."

"You altered the weather pattern of a fairly large region just to get those two in a cozy position?!" Giles’ tone rising in bewilderment.

Jack grinned smugly. "How do you think the big kitten and your Great Grandmother finally got together?" The Scotsman had the good grace to cough in embarrassment. Jack simply stretched out again on Giles’ couch and fell instantly asleep.

Vincent turned to his Grandson. "I’d love to know how he does that. I’ll stay a few days longer, I’d like to spend some time and catch up. It has been a fair number of years since last we spoke Ripper." "I’d like that Grandfather."

The two men sat long into the night, reminiscing, drinking a fair amount of Scotch and then bourbon. Eventually the two men walked comradely down to the corner pub for a few pints and talked about matters, both grave and inconsequential.

Buffy lay stretched out on her bed, ankles crossed casually as the Slayer talked cheerfully into the receiver of her phone to a certain redhead. "So Wills, how far have you gotten with the Molocomputer?"

"Not very far, I have to have the computer booted to access the files and he really gets on my nerves, but he learned real quickly not to try that Malcom crap with me again." Willow sounded both pissed and embarrassed.

"Hey, calm down. I still say he used demony mojo on you." Buffy reasoned, "Have you thought of muting the sound?"

"Yeah, five minutes into his spiel. Now he resists my hacking and plays minesweeper. It’s pretty funny, I almost joined him for a poker game." She laughed, wondering what Pj’s the blonde was wearing tonight.

"Only you could get invited to a poker game with a digital back up of a corruptor demon." Buffy stretched and yawned, picturing the redhead sprawled over her, lounging in post coital bliss. Shaking her head, she barely caught the end of her friends statement.

"…The complete lack of demon types?" Willow asked.

"What?"

"I said, did you notice the complete lack of demon types? Back on the ship, it was empty."

"I was talking with Moloch before you guys got there. He practically apologized for not having any minions for me to fight." Buffy joined the hacker in laughter. "I’m serious, this was of course after he tried to corrupt me." "Oh, Buffy, we went into my Dad’s study." Willow whispered. Sitting on the floor, the young hacker stretched a kink in her back from sitting on the floor so long and slumped back against her bed, "But where we think the legal papers used to be? We only found a note telling us we were early! And get this, it was signed "The Dark One". You said that Graile was dark skinned right?"

"First, Graile’s not dark skinned, he’s black. Not African black, obsidian black. Second, It could be him, but why would an Elder Vampire be interested in legal papers from Jack’s law firm regarding you?" Buffy felt a seed of mistrust take root deep inside her regarding her "old friend".

"Uh, Buffy, do you get the feeling Jack’s not telling us everything?"

"Only every time we meet, yeah. We’re going to have a long talk. Good night Willow."

"Good night Buffy." The redhead hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment longer. "I love you Buffy."

The blonde Slayer held the wireless phone in her hand and closed her eyes in shame. "I love you Willow."

Graile shifted from his human form to his demonic visage and ran an incredibly dark hand through a wild shock of likewise unnaturally white hair. Stepping through a cement portal, he stepped into a long sewer access tunnel and continued his journey to the Master’s Lair. Looking up through a street vent, the predawn sky was slowly lightening, moving from deep indigo to a lighter violet. Turning a left corner, he stood face to face with a hulking vampire clutching a nail studded baseball bat. Looking down at the Elder Vampire, he snarled, "You lost Nigger?"

Graile’s eyes flared bright blue, like the heart of a candle. His hand snaps out and clamps onto the thug vamp’s throat and squeezed hard. "First, I hate that word." A harder squeeze, "Second. My name is Graile. I am over seven thousand years old. I can kill you in way far more agonizingly painful than you will ever discover in Hell." More pressure and the thug’s head popped off, "Third, I am never lost." Graile continued past the pile of ashes towards the Master’s main chamber.

Heinrich Joseph Nest at on his throne, dreading his rapidly approaching guest. As soon as the expensively dressed Vampire entered his throne room, he gestured his servants to leave. Most left before the signal had been given. "Hello again Heinrich." Graile moved to stand ten feet from the Master. "I am leaving this pathetic burg. Your children are free to once again feed upon the citizens." He turned abruptly to leave. Just prior to the door, he turned. "Among the Slayer’s flock is a redhead. Touch her and I will stake you out in the deserts of Las Vegas for Sunrise. She is important to my goals." Leaving, the Master sighed and slumped down in his chair.

As the sun climbed the sky, Jack drove off in his black convertible, but not before Vincent gave him something he had long thought was lost; A faded color photograph. Turning the Olds onto a highway headed east out of Sunnydale, half of his mind was focused on driving, the other half on the image; A simple 3x4 of himself and a smiling redhead, their arms entwined. A couple danced in the background, a tall, darkly handsome man who held a shorter blonde tightly, unguarded love flared from their eyes as they were captured in that moment. All four had content happy smiles on their faces. All four wore rings on their left ring fingers.

* * *