Graile - Chapter 8 - B C N U
by Connor_Mac
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Graile
Chapter 8 — B C N U
By: MacBeth
Author's notes: I did it! I am now standing amidst the rubble of what was once six cubic miles of Writer's Block. It's amazing what three tons of C-4 and a baggie of Funyuns can do.
* * *
Manhattan, New York
6:14 pm
The first-class flight had been swift and pleasant and waiting for him at the airport lounge stood a slim, young girl with a mocha complexion. Gesturing almost reluctantly, the girl led him out of the terminal and into a waiting taxi. Giving the hack the address, Akivasha Tutuola slumped back in the vinyl seat, and kept her eyes glued out the window. Seated next to the obviously angry woman, Rupert Giles drew on his English upbringing and kept his stoic demeanor intact.
Arriving in the covered garage-like alley behind Jovovich Breadworks, Rupert pulled his travel bag out of the trunk of the cab and followed the girl into the renovated bakery/warehouse. Following her lime green shirttails, she led him through a professionally established kitchen, down a mahogany paneled hallway, into a brick and black oak paneled study.
Before Giles had even seated himself across the mahogany desk from Jack, Aki had already disappeared through a side door. Seated behind the elegantly appointed desk, Jack Covington looked up from writing in a ledger and smiled. "Giles. I was wondering when your flight got in." Seeing his overnight bag, the Irishman sighed. "I apologize for Aki's attitude."
"Quite alright, was it something I said? Actually, I don't recall saying anything." Giles thought back over the very brief attempt at conversation upon greeting his "guide".
"No, Aki is not a happy person right now, and for some reason she doesn't like Watchers, I think it's a carry over from her previous life." Jack shrugged in a silent apology "Wait one moment and we'll get down to business. I'm sorry, but if I don't get these Import invoices filed just so, the Customs Department will have a royal fit." An instant later, a narrow side door opened and a tall, statuesque man entered, carrying a sterling silver teapot and pair of teacups on a silver tray. "Tea?"
After dispensing the tea, Lucius nodded and left the room. "I really wish he wouldn't do that." Jack smiled and shook his head; seeing his guest's slight confusion, Jack chuckled. "Lucius is currently undergoing severe mental deprogramming."
Giles set aside the imported tea and leveled a glare at his stalling. "You told me to come here so I came. I cannot guide the Slayer while I have this knowledge. It can only hurt her and perhaps even get her killed."
Jack nodded and stood. "Right, down to business. This way." Jack stood and led the Watcher out of the library and back into the kitchen. Nodding to a refrigerator-raiding brunette in leather who poked her head out to say "hello", the irishman opened a slim door into the basement and wine cellar. Moving through the extensive maze of oak racks holding well-aged bottles of merlot, squat bottles of cognac and brandy, and enough liquor to stock virtually any bar.
Walking to a colossal six-foot wide cask set deeply into the brick foundation, Jack pushed in the middle of the barrel's front and a four-foot wide section swung opened on a concealed hinge. Stepping through, the two walked through an aged brick archway into a large stone and wood paneled chamber set with virtually every piece of arcane paraphernalia known to the Englishman.
A cauldron sat cool in a cold fireplace, a number of scrying crystals, both orb-like and shard, set in a variety of stands all around the room. Set in the middle of the room sat an antique wooden table, sturdy yet pleasing to the eye. Imported Persian carpets covered the inlaid marble floor, the carpets more for physical comfort than for their aesthetic beauty; having deduced this by the furry gorilla slippers peeking near the foot of the worktable. Ancient grimoire, librams, tomes, spellbooks, as well as reference manuals covered nearly every surface as well as crammed in each of three bookcases set into the walls. Wax encrusted candelabra set at each of the eight compass points of the chamber burned merrily, shining light on the impressive laboratory.
"My... word..." Rupert's eye caught a multitude of artifacts stuffed onto pedestals and shelves around the room. A small gold statuette of a squatting South American native set with two garnets for eyes sat on one shelf, while a small circular box holding a softly glowing orb sat on another; and taking up an entire wall leaned a gigantic book, more than eight feet tall, and six feet wide, it's cover a deeply burnished bronze.
In a small barrel near the door, a number of staves were crammed in along with one or two umbrellas. "It's amazing what two million pounds can buy these days." Jack grinned in what Xander would call a "shit-eating-grin". After being gestured to sit in a wooden chair, Giles saw the young, moody girl from before enter and stand with crossed arms in the doorway, a rolled manuscript clutched in one hand. "Ah, Aki, good timing. I noticed there hasn't been a proper introduction; Rupert Giles, this is my assistant, Akivasha Tutuola." A pair of brief, cursory nods were exchanged and a cold chill swept across the room. "Well, this is awkward. Now, Aki, prepare yourself, we're going to perform major mnemonic surgery."
* * *
The Bronze,
Sunnydale, California
9:20pm
Buffy Summers shuffled over to the sofa where her best friend, Willow Rosenberg sat. "Hey."
The Redhead smiled. "Hey back." Patting the cushion beside her, Willow looked around the club in confusion. "Where's Angel?"
The Slayer sat and shrugged, "Dunno, He headed back to the mansion for more brooding, I guess." the two friends listened to the house band while talking of mundane things, trying to pass the time as normal teenagers do.
"So when does Giles come back?" Willow asked, in between sips of her decaf mocha.
"Tomorrow, I think." Buffy nibbled an almond and white chocolate biscotti and tried desperately to keep from lingering her eyes on Willow's neck. "Whatever it was that sent him scurrying home must be important."
Willow stretched and drained her drink. "Well, after two or three vamps a night for two weeks, this slow period is welcome."
"Amen to that."
* * *
Jovovich Breadworks,
Manhattan, New York
Two Hours Later.
Aki snapped her fingers. An entranced Rupert snapped awake. "We're done, I'm gone." The girl mumbled, leaving the chamber anyway. Jack sighed and took Aki's seat before the slightly disoriented Englishman.
"Jack, it didn't work. I still remember everything." Giles's shoulder's slumped.
Shaking his head, the muscular young man held up a slim vial whose contents glimmered with a slight azure glow. "When you get back to Sunnydale, take this and the mnemonic surgery will take effect. It wouldn't be wise for you to forget why you were here to begin with, now would it?"
Giles took the vial and held the small glass in his hand. "I drink this and I'll forget everything?"
The Irishman rubbed the back of his neck to loosen the tensed muscles. "More like the script you and I wrote will play out in your mind instead of your actual memories." Jack shrugged. "I never paid that much attention to Psionics. It's not my strongest point."
Giles stood and absently perused the volumes spread over a sturdy, Elizabethan table. "Drake's Codex, The Royal Encyclopedia of Arcane Matters: Volume 7, the Oscardin Folios, These are quite rare, Jack."
"Hitler would have either burned them, or used them to advance his regime." He shrugged, "I never believed in the destruction of knowledge, and there was no way in Hell I was going to let that Austrian Prat use them like that."
"I was under the impression that every copy of Volume seven had been destroyed by the Vatican." Giles idly traced the intricate embossed brass plate set into the cover. The Ex-Watcher turned to Jack, "Have you considered putting your life in print?"
"No. There's enough poorly written, totally unbelievable garbage out there already." The young man nodded to the door, "Let's get something to eat. You're flight's in four hours."
Giles sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly very weary. "Good. I could use a good five hour nap," he mumbled, stepping through the hidden hatch in the cask.
"How can you sleep on an airplane?" His host wondered as they weaved through the wine racks. "Not even in first class, I just can't do it."
* * *
Sunnydale, California
5:45 am
Ten and a half hours later, Giles sat in his living room, his overnight bag unpacked and his clothes put away. His apartment seemed disturbingly quiet as he sat in his chair and stared into his unlit fireplace. Rupert rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his tie long since loosened. Giles shifted minutely as his suspender strap dug into his thigh; his left hand gently swirling a glass of fifteen year old single malt scotch while the other held the slim glass vial, it's contents a dimly glowing blue. "Drink and forget." Giles suddenly felt much older than his thirty-five years and using his thumb, the tired Englishman popped the rubber stopper from the vial.
* * *
Ten Months Later.
Sunnydale, California
Tuesday 3:08 AM
Ending the first half of her patrol, Buffy meandered through the main drag of Sunnydale, when a slight tingle curled the hairs on the back of her neck and she turned towards an alley beside Mondo's Sk8 Shop.
Halfway in, the alleyway seemed to darken to the Slayer; her "spidey-sense" was in full effect, sending a gravely cold shiver down her spine. Turning slowly, Buffy shook her head at the thin muscular vampire whose skin seemed to draw in the surrounding light. "Graile."
"Slayer." The millennia old vampire ducked his head in respect. "I heard you died," he stated calmly. His normally loose stark white hair pulled back in a tight horsetail.
Buffy shrugged arrogantly, "I did. I got bored. I came back." The Slayer shrugged and crossed her arms, a needle sharp stake clutched absently in one hand. "I thought I made it clear I didn't want you in my town."
"You did. But what you want and what you get rarely coincide. Now, if you'll be so kind as to let that irritatingly elusive hunter know that I'll be waiting for him in the Master's lair, I'll bid you goodnight." Bowing grandly to the Slayer, the obsidian skinned vampire walked casually from the alleyway. Buffy narrowed her eyes, pulled her arm back and threw the stake toward his departing back, Graile simply spun on his heel like a dancer and snagged the stake from the air. He twitched his finger over his shoulder as though chastising a child. "Ah, ah, ah. That's not very sportsman-like now, is it?" The elder's laughter echoed along the brick walls as he dropped the stake near the entrance to the alley on his way out.
Narrowing her eyes as a thought struck her, Buffy turned at the entrance and ran in the opposite direction; seeking the payphone at the end of the block. Buffy pulled a phone card out of her coat's inner pocket and dialed the number. At the appropriate moment, she entered the number she'd memorized from Jack's business card.
* * *
The trilling of the telephone awoke Jack from his sleep and reaching over the slumbering blonde curled half against, half on him, he pulled the cordless from it's base. "Hello...?" he mumbled as he dropped his head back onto the pillow, not bothering to open his eyes.
Buffy almost didn't believe her ears. "Jack?"
"Buffy? Good God, What time is it there?" He moaned, seeing the "6:14" beaming merrily from his bedside clock.
"Never mind that. Graile's here." The Slayer whispered, as a slim, mocha skinned girl smiled politely at her in passing. Nodding absently, the Slayer listened for a response. "Did you hear me Jack?"
"Yes. I'm up. I'll be there by three in the afternoon." Jack mumbled, hanging up the phone and collapsing against the half-asleep Amanda.
"Who zat?" the blonde mumbled, falling back to sleep before he could answer.
Jack yawned and joined her in slumber.
* * *
Buffy replaced the phone on the receiver and hmphed in disappointment. "Well there goes that theory."
"Excuse me?" Buffy whirled to see the dread locked girl from before standing with a questioning look on her features. "Did you ask me something?"
"Oh, uh no. Just thinking out loud." Buffy grinned.
"Oh." the young girl smiled and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm uh, Dana." After shaking hands, the Mocha skinned girl slid her hand back into the pocket of her gray Sacred Heart sweatshirt.
"Hi. Buffy. You're new here, aren't you?"
"Oh yeah, I just moved here from San Fran. How could you tell?" The girl gestured to walk and the two fell into a slow pace.
'Because Sunnydale natives know not to walk around the streets at this time of night.' The Slayer thought. "I don't recall seeing you at the Bronze or around school." Buffy shrugged. "And I have a cousin in Sacred Heart." She said, pointing to the sweatshirt.
"Ah. I take it the Bronze is a club?" The girl cracked a grin.
"Well what passes for one around here. You live nearby?"
"Yeah, Mom got an apartment around the corner. I uh, couldn't sleep, so I decided to go for a run." Hearing a can shuffle on the ground in an alley as they passed, Buffy and Dana both snapped to attention; Buffy sliding the stake from her sleeve while Dana whipped a crucifix and a small, toy water pistol from her pockets.
Buffy turned to the girl in suspicion; "You know what's really out there, don't you?"
Dana nodded, her locks bouncing slightly. "You do too?"
"Vampires." The two girls said in unison.
"C'mon, I'll walk you home, I can tell you all about this hellish wonderland you've just moved to." The two girls kept an eye on virtually every nook and shadow large enough to hold a vampire and made their way around the corner to Mullcrest Avenue.
Reaching the apartment door first, Dana unlocked the door and stepped in, immediately turning to face her new friend.
Noting the girl's movement, Buffy grinned. "That's smart, not giving me a direct invitation." the white of her teeth shining eerily in the porch light as she stepped right through the doorway into the girl's new home. "Nice house."
Dana sighed in relief and closed the door before leading Buffy up the stairs as quietly as possible. Dana's sneakers made little noise even to Buffy's heightened sense of hearing and in a matter of moments, the two were safely behind Dana's closed door. "So... Are there a lot of vampires in San Francisco?"
Dana leaned against the windowsill and shrugged, "Not really, it's mostly demons and warlocks. A couple of really powerful covens too." She said in a low voice. "So what brought you into the game?"
A glimmer of disapproval seeped into her eyes as she struggled to keep her voice down, "This isn't a game, Dana. People die every day and..." she broke off as her new friend raised her arms in defense.
"Hold on there, that's what we called it up north. I'm very much aware that it's not a game." The mocha-skinned girl whispered. "So...?"
Buffy sighed. "To make a long story short, I'm what's called a Slayer." She was about to explain what a Slayer was when she saw the look of awe on her friends face. "I'm guessing you've heard of me."
Dana crooked her smile a little, "Uh... Yeah. I've heard about the Slayer." She hesitated before asking her next question. "I thought you were black."
* * *
Willow Rosenberg was reputed to be one of the best in Sunnydale when it came to computers. Few knew she was one of the best in the Southwest. But with the computer Jack had given her, she was slipping ghostlike into systems she'd never considered possible before. She'd already hacked into the Bank of America database and transferred funds from the American Socialist Party and the KKK's fund accounts to the United Negro College fund; She then searched out several of the more violent computer hackers and shut them down, as well as constructed a search-bot for the Medical, Police, and Transportation databases for most of the Los Angeles area; a complex program that would have taken two more years of work on her original computer, as opposed to the six months on Jack's laptop. Now she was able to find reports of "animal maulings" with even greater ease.
Now Willow sat cross-legged on her bed, searching through the National Geographic Society's hidden archives for information on the Southern California region. She had been perusing an article regarding a hill roughly ten miles outside of town that was reported as being much colder than the surrounding countryside when an IM window popped onto her screen.
(VashaNY: Red?)
(RedOne: Hey Vash.)
(VashaNY: What's the good word?)
(RedOne: B's had another Graile sighting. So, Jack's flying out here. )
(VashaNY: I thought you said this Jack dude WAS Graile.)
(RedOne: That was until B saw Graile while Jack was in New York.)
Deanna leaned back from the keyboard and rubbed the cramping feeling from her pale hands. "Damn this piece of rubbish and Damn whoever invented it." She rubbed her hands while reading a notepad of details to reveal. "Why couldn't Aki have done this?" she moaned out loud.
"Because Deanna, Jack asked her to assist him with another project." The slim young man on whose lap she had been sitting whispered, while dragging his fingers up and down her leather clad thigh. "And besides, if Aki were asked to do this, I'd have her bony butt shredding my lap instead of your perfect ass." Pike grinned, as Deanna glared and wiggled her bottom over his lap.
"You'd better not have her bony butt anywhere near your lap Fishboy." The one hundred and forty eight year old vampire glared at her lover and leaned closer to Pike; mock nipping his throat.
(RedOne: You probably know Jack. Slim, muscular, Irish, unnervingly charming.)
Deanna snorted at the description.
(VashaNY: Sounds like a guy I know at this curio shop I hit every so often. They've got some really freaky stuff.)
(RedOne: He said he owned a shop like that. Anyhoo, He's on his way here to fulfill his lifelong death wish.)
(VashaNY: You don't think he'll survive?)
Willow rubbed her eyes, She turned slightly to a familiar picture; taken three months ago, Before Angelus' return. Buffy's arm thrown over her in a comfortable if entirely friendly embrace. Xander had taken the picture barely an hour after the blonde had slain a fairly large posse of vampires after robbing a blood bank. Willow remembered that for one instant, she had locked eyes with her best friend and had what she could only describe as a mild heart attack.
Shaking her head, Willow remembered waking up in the library with no memory of those few hours, knowing something incredibly important had happened. Something she suspected Jack had a hand in.
(RedOne: He will. Something tells me Jack will be around for a long time.)
* * *
Sunnydale Airport
Wednesday 3:15 p.m.
Jack stood outside the Main Terminal and set his knapsack beside his foot. A half hour had passed with the Irishman leaning against the wall before Joyce's SUV pulled up to the curb. "Hello again, Jack."
"Ms. Summers." Jack smiled as he climbed into the passenger seat and tossed the leather pack onto the baseboard.
"Please, call me Joyce." The blonde woman smiled. "My employer at the Gallery was very appreciative of your purchase. I hope you enjoy it." Maneuvering the vehicle through traffic, Joyce tried to keep from remembering the sight of her young, muscular passenger nude, wet, up close, wet, and very, very nude. Jack leaned back in the seat and squinted up at the midday sun.
"I couldn't resist purchasing such a beautiful painting. I take it Buffy's at school?" The question was a welcome distraction from an otherwise uncomfortable silence. Jack played with the emerald bound in gold on his left ring finger.
"She was, schools let out at three. You said you're here for the weekend?"
"Yes. I'm meeting with a woman interested in selling a statue of Venus her husband had smuggled out of Italy before the Nazi's invaded." Jack smiled.
"Well, Buffy sounded glad that you were coming." She turned onto Revello Drive, "She really likes you." her voice adopted a slight warning tone.
Jack held up his hand in a defense posture. "Aye, now. Buffy's not my type. She's also far too young for my tastes." Joyce nodded in placation. "Besides, I prefer redheads... And brunettes."
* * *
Buffy looked up from her issue of Cosmo as a tingle spread from her spine up her back. Her eyes widened as a familiar feeling of well being spread over her; as though an electrical current was coursing through her entire body. The front door opened and Joyce called out to her daughter, "Hi, honey."
"Hi, Mom. Hey, Jack." Buffy tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and hugged Jack after hugging her mother. "Just get in?"
The Irishman nodded and set down his bag. "Joyce, as I'm going to be sponging off your generosity yet again, I'm paying for Dinner." The elder Summers opened her mouth to object and he simply held up his hand. "Joyce. You can object till your blue in the face, I'm still ordering the Pizzas."
"Ok, ok. I know when I'm beat." Joyce smiled and headed towards the kitchen for a drink. Jack leaned close to the Slayer and smiled.
"Be sure to give the gang a call, it wouldn't be a get together if they didn't come, now would it?" He said, sitting on the Slayer's couch. Buffy sat down on the opposite end and waited as Joyce puttered around the kitchen.
Buffy turned to her old friend. "You owe me a conversation. No ifs, ands, or buts; and especially no verbal misdirection." She finished with a glare and a pointed finger.
Jack sat back against the couch and sighed. "If you insist."
* * *
Xander stood outside of his parents' house and stared at the door like an inmate being walked to the "Chair". He'd stopped referring to this house as "Home" a little over eight years ago; when the abuse started, both physical and verbal. Ever since, he'd always thought of Willow's house, then later, Mrs. Summers' place as his homes.
Taking in a deep breath, he walked the remaining steps to the door and stepped in; instantly he was assaulted by the familiar smell of vodka. The stench seemed strongest near a stain on the wall near the front door; an object under his shoe drew his eyes downward to the emptied plastic Popov bottle. "Oh, great..." Xander wondered how fast he could move to his room without drawing enemy fire his way. Spying his father's hole-socked feet hanging over the arm of the ratty sofa, He knew he'd managed to avoid the day's feud. Moving towards the back hallway, Xander had nearly reached the door to his room when the phone began to ring. He managed to pick up the receiver before the third ring, knowing that if it had awoken his father, there would be Hell to pay. "Hello?"
"Xand?" the infinitely welcome voice of his best friend came through the line and Xander pulled the long corded receiver into the kitchen.
"Hey, Wills. What's the up?" he spoke in a voice two shades above a whisper, knowing Willow would understand.
"I'm gonna head over to Buffy's, wanna meet at the Pump?" Willow asked, dropping her voice without question.
"Sure."
* * *
Joyce looked up from her chaotic pile of inventory forms she'd brought home from the Art Gallery and peaked through the dining archway into the living room; where her daughter and their guest were still visible. Normally, Joyce would keep a sharper eye on the fairly handsome young man who seemed overly interested in her daughter, yet she could feel there was nothing to worry about. Completely unconcerned with the Antiquities broker in the living room, Joyce resumed her work on the horribly cluttered paperwork before her.
Buffy dropped her head back against the top of the couch. "So, what's the cover story going to be this time?" seeing the curious look, she gestured downwards. "In case Mom gets curious."
The Irishman nodded and shrugged. "An art deal with a woman in town." He sat against the dresser and crossed his arms. "I feel kind of bad crashing here like this."
Buffy chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I think subconsciously, Mom wants to open a bed and breakfast... or a flophouse." Buffy crossed her arms to mimic her friend and glared. "So...?"
Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Yes...?"
"So, how do you know so much about me, and about what's going on. And I swear if you give me that "neighborhood seer" line, I'll smack you with a dead mackerel."
Ignoring the image that placed in his head, Jack sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was getting really drunk one night in this pub a couple miles outside of Stonehenge. I had just finished my fifth pint in that bar, which was the third pub of the night. When this guy walks in. Dressed kind of... oddly, even for Britain he was dressed kind of out there." He chuckled, and Buffy could see by his eyes that he was reliving that night. "He sat down beside me and ordered a bottle of something, I don't recall what. He said my name, like he knew who I was and over the next hour or so, he explained what was going to happen. I didn't believe him and told him so, only with cursing and a good deal of slurring. I remember he smiled, like he'd been waiting for this. He placed his hand on my forehead and..." Jack sighed again. "Suddenly I was in this other place; High marble columns, braziers of lit coals, gold ornamentations; the works. By the time the oracles showed up, I'm stone sober. They tell me what's going to happen, when, where, and how. Only they didn't use words. They put these images into my mind. Images of you, Hemry High, Pike, Willow, Giles, Xander, The Master, and some things that haven't even happened yet; and no, I'm not going to tell you what is going to happen." He finished, holding up a hand in the Slayer's direction.
"Why not?"
"And ruin the surprise?" Jack said, his lips curling in a half grin.
"So why lie?"
"Hmm... The fewer who know that I know what's coming, the better, got it?'
"Oh. Sucks to be you."
* * *
Xander walked down Revello Drive with his best friend beside him. Willow, insisting that Xander was wrong about Eggplants having yolks. Shook her head in mock frustration, "Of course they have yolks, Will. Haven't you cracked one open?"
Willow stopped walking and stared at her friend. "You seriously need to turn off the TV once in a while."
The two walked further, discussing everything under the sun as their destination drew nearer. "So... Another visit from the New York Mystery Man himself..."Xander stated ominously.
Willow grinned and chucked him on the arm. "Did you miss him that much?" she couldn't resist giggling at the glare he leveled at her. "Ah... young love..." she finished with outright laughter. Xander chased after the running redhead, hiding his grin behind a glare of mock outrage.
The two reached Buffy's porch out of breath and laughing like children. Willow knocked on the door a millisecond before the door opened, revealing a curious Joyce Summers. "Are you two ok?"
Xander nodded and slowed his breathing. "We uh, felt like running." He mumbled lamely.
Joyce nodded slowly and beckoned them in. "Well, come on in, Jack's about to order the Pizzas, so go tell him what you want."
As Joyce walked back to the dining room and the table covered in inventory forms and invoices, she wondered what a twenty-something guy like Jack would want with her daughter. That train of thought brought her to a screeching halt. A sudden urge to burst into the living room and throttle the young Irishman seeped into her mind yet as fast as the thought came, it faded away and she felt deep down that the young man was essentially harmless.
Joyce led the three teens into the kitchen for sodas while Jack stepped out onto the porch to phone in their order on his cell phone. Dialing the confounding piece of technology, Jack could hear the laughter from inside as undoubtedly Xander joked about whatever subject their conversation had turned to. "Yes, Hello. I'd like four large pizzas; one supreme, One meatlover's, One three cheese, and one ham and pineapple. Oh, also two orders of Crazy Bread. The total? Cash. Excellent; oh, Can I order something and have it delivered to another location? To be billed here... 1620 Revello Drive. Excellent." Jack closed his eyes in thought. "The apartment complex off Mullcrest, Apartment 112. A medium pizza, three cheese, anchovies, pepperoncini, and bacon. No. No, this isn't a prank. That's right, Apartment 112; and bring that bill here. Right, thank you." Jack snapped his phone shut and tucked it into the pocket of his waistcoat. The late afternoon sun turned the sky a brilliant orange and red color and the Irishman basked in the light, enjoying every moment.
Jack felt him coming even before he opened the door though he didn't turn around, keeping his eyes on the skyline instead. "Xander."
Xander Harris slid his hands into his pockets as he built up his courage. "Hey Jack. Uh, look. I uh. Wanted to ask you something."
"Speak."
"Look, Buffy's my friend, and with all that's going on..."
"Angelus is loose, you don't want her to be distracted by my hunt. Am I close?"
"As usual."
"Don't worry about B. I'm not going to allow her on the hunt tonight. If what Lin's told me is true, the coming confrontation with Angelus will be big, and have deep repercussions." Jack turned to face the teen and leaned back against the railing as he had a year ago.
"Lin?"
"A seer friend of mine. She keeps me abreast of what she sometimes sees in Sunnydale's future.
This place is pretty important, you know."
"Oh, uh, yeah. So once you... uh, deal with Graile..."
"I'm gone." Jack shrugged. "I want to know why Graile keeps coming here. I doubt it's because of
the Hellmouth."
"Why do you chase after the guy? I mean, there are plenty of nipple heads, why go after Nero's pet mage?"
Jack sighed and drew his hand down over his lips to his chin in thought. "I know a lot about the Elder Vampire. He's not Roman; he's Babylonian, about seven thousand years old or so." He sighed deeply and continued; "According to family legend, while alive he had two siblings, a brother and a sister, his brother Herik was the only one to have children. Down through the millennia, Graile would visit on the family like a plague, killing the weak like a shepherd culling his flock. Out of a bizarre sense of family duty is the most popular theory."
"As a result, our branch of the Covington line has become rather close knit, our family history is held in more regard than most other families where the details are kept as factual as possible as opposed to embellished for entertainment purposes; due in no small part to the homicidal demon picking us off like dominoes." Jack stretched in place and continued. "Graile has never attempted to destroy or conquer the world. He sees himself as a sort of perverse guardian of our family."
"And you go after this guy if he's so old? He sounds like he could take you in a heartbeat." Xander shook his head a though to banish the thought.
"The eldest child hunts the Dark One, to protect the young of the family, or so the saying goes.
Since Deanna is a bit younger than I am..." he finished with a shrug. "Not the greatest inheritance in the world, but it's better than a life of, ugh... Boredom." The Irishman's shoulders shook with disgust.
Inside, Willow finished untying her shoes and placed them beside the couch before wiggling her toes in her socks. Next to her on the couch, Buffy looked down at the cute toe wiggling and suppressed a giggle. The Slayer met the redhead's eyes and smiled before pulling her own shoes off. Joyce looked up from her paperwork and watched her daughter stare at the oblivious redhead as she herself has stared at the reproductions of Renoir in her gallery.
Outside, the two stood in silence until a sputtering, badly tended Ford Escort pulled up to the curb and a wiry teenager shuffled lazily to the porch, his hands holding a fully stuffed oven bag.
* * *
Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, lounged on the leather bench before his fireplace, staring into the flames with a wrathful sneer. The two-century-old vampire mumbled to himself; pointedly ignoring his wheelchair bound progeny as he propelled himself around the halls of Angel's mansion. Around and around the hall, the lunatic vampire Drusilla danced leisurely, humming a random tune as she pirouetted.
Turning the fire prod over through the coals, Angelus felt his blood bubble as he remembered the events of the previous night, being possessed by the ghost of a schoolteacher, and a woman, no less.
"Excuse me, Miss." Spike asked, a wide grin on his face. "Which way to Study Ha... Urkh!" He was cut off as Angelus slid the prod back through his hand to slam the bronze pommel into the blonde's throat and burning his hand in the process.
The older vampire was about to pound a lesson in humility into his wheelchair confined cohort when he spied Drusilla's eyes widen in terror. Turning, he followed his progeny's line of sight and saw a hooded, shadow high up in an open skylight. A feeling flowed over his inner demon and he knew the name of this shadow. "Graile."
Dropping twenty-five feet to the floor, the Elder vampire drew back his hood and looked upon those millennia younger than he. "Angelus. William. Drusilla." He said each of their names out of respect to their home and removed his coat. "I've come for a..."
"I don't recall caring why you've come into my house. Old Man." Angelus sneered.
Graile's soft grin vanished. "No need for incivility." He frowned, pulling his coat off his shoulders and draping it over the back of a chair. He then unbuttoned the left sleeve of his black silk shirt. "I've come to give you a message, Angelus. The Slayer, her crew, and the Hunter Jack are not to be harmed while I am here." He stated simply, rolling the sleeve up over his elbow.
Angelus strode up to a hairsbreadth from the Elder Vampire and sneered, poking his finger into Graile's chest. "You can take your message an..." the vampire would have finished his suggestion which involved three particularly unnatural anatomical acts, had Graile not brutally shoved his hand into Angelus' stomach. Even Spike, who'd earned his nickname from his creative use of railroad spikes, hadn't seen a move so abruptly ruthless in decades. The peroxide blonde felt a cold mist slide through his mind, and barely noticed that he couldn't move, even as his mind started to wander.
"I believe," the seven millennia old vampire pushed his hand in further, "I wasn't finished. Move an inch, and I'll crumble your heart into jelly." He whispered the final part into Angelus' ear as he slid his fingertips up under Angelus' ribcage into place around his captive's heart. He turned his gaze away from the transfixed demon to the other two vampires. "Drusilla, Spike. If you come near the Slayer and her crew while I am in this charming little town, there will not be enough of you left to fill a snuff box." A cruel sneer flitted across his face as he began to tap the William Tell Overture against Angelus' heart with the pads of his fingers. "I will return when I am finished." He said simply, sliding his hand smoothly out from under the vampire's rib cage with a sickening wet slurping sound. Angelus fell to his knees briefly before collapsing onto his side, weakly clasping the gaping hole in his abdomen.
Graile's unusually blue eyes flashed in Drusilla's direction and the two drew slowly together, their eyes reflecting an inner light of mental prowess. Standing nearly toe-to-toe, they began to sway slowly from side to side, communicating as only those with a mental eye can. Not in direct words, but in images and emotions. Time stood still for the two as they shared mental threads of a decidedly sinful nature. Spike would have looked on in impotent jealous rage if the toe of his left boot had not suddenly started singing "La Bamba" to him. Eventually, Drusilla's eyes flickered shut, her breathing, although unnecessary, became shallow and random. The Elder Vampire grinned and dragged his gore-slathered hand down across the vampire's face.
Through the mind-fog, the wheelchair bound vampire noticed what his mate and the Elder were doing and Spike shook his head as the cold tendril unwound from around his mind. "You get the hell away from her mate." He sputtered, rolling closer to the two. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?!"
Drusilla dreamily opened her eyes and smiled at her lover, the blood of her sire seeping into her skin to vanish completely. "Spike..." she moaned, gliding across the marble floor to kneel before him. The sitting vampire couldn't help but notice that her virginal white gown clung to her skin in such a sinful way, as to be nearly translucent in the moonlight. The two lovers never noticed that Graile had picked up his coat and left through the garden door nor that Angelus' remained curled on the floor.
* * *
Over the Pizza, the five talked, joked, and laughed while camped out in the living rooms, for once, even Joyce joined in the banter, causing long giggle fits in the girls as well as the guys. All too soon, the night faded and near eleven, Joyce said her goodnights and headed up the stairs to sleep.
Xander said his goodnights with his typical good nature before stepping out into the night, pizza box balanced precariously on his fingertips. Buffy chuckled at his parting remark as she closed the door. The sound of the deadbolt turning reminded Xander of his own home and the dubious welcome waiting there for him. With a resigned and thoroughly exhausted sigh, he headed for home.
* * *
In the mansion nestled in the hills overlooking Sunnydale, Angelus lay wracked with pain on his bed, cursing everything in sight for his injury. In the living area, Spike was so enthused over his Grandsire's pain; he pulled wheelies in glee, wheeling down the halls knowing it irritated the Hell out of Angelus.
Angelus had sent Drusilla out for a meal, knowing that to heal as quickly as possible, he would need blood, the fresher and younger, the better. The sheer indignity of his wound was what truly angered the Irish Vampire. Knowing that he'd been brought down so swiftly still stung his pride and Angelus entertained thoughts of how he'd extract his revenge against the Elder, the consequences be damned.
It was in these musings that inspiration struck. "Jack." Angelus would have laughed vilely had the act not aggravated his still grievously wounded abdomen. Hearing the aggravated squeaking from the main living area, Angelus' smile grew even darker. The Irish vampire closed his eyes, plotting ways for his Grandchilde to get the blame for killing the Irishman.
* * *
TBC