Tossed Stakes and Scrambled Eggs: No, you don't see her
by Mediancat
They drove up to the front gate. When they got there Niles turned to Buffy and Giles and said, “You want her supply of the concealing makeup, correct?”

“You know that,” Buffy said.

“I know Maris. Especially if her supply is the last remaining everywhere –“

“It is,” Giles said. “We burned the place in Sunnydale to the ground. She was the only escapee. Thus our visit to Seattle.”

“The thing is,” Niles said. “You may know vampires, but I know Maris. She’ll have just enough on hand to last her a few days. She’ll have the majority of it VERY well hidden – too well for any of us to find it after a quick search, and believe you me if we come charging in there guns blazing the police will be here long before we have a chance to tear the place apart.”

“We don’t carry guns,” Buffy said.

“That’s not the point,” Niles said.

“So your . . . soon-to-be-ex is connected?” Giles asked.

“Like a switchboard,” Niles said. “Of course, by that point she’d be dead, but the three of us would be arrested – certainly, the two of you might be able to fade into the night but I have no such option.”

“I take it you have an alternative?”

“I do,” Niles said. “First though, in addition to what I said earlier, since the factory has been destroyed Maris will almost certainly have sent a small sample out to be duplicated. This makeup enables her to have a normal life, gentlemen; she will not part with it, or its manufacture, readily. And even should you kill her the covering makeup would still be on the market.”

“I think I may see where you’re going with this,” Buffy said slowly. “You’re saying we make a deal.”

“Precisely,” Niles said. “Offer her her life in exchange for her makeup supply and the location of whoever she’s hired to reconstitute it.”

“Giles?” Buffy asked. “It would be easier that way. And I’ve already gotten my daily quota of violence with those vamps in the alley.”

Sharply, Giles said, “Two questions. First, can she be trusted?”

“On this matter, I believe so. And if I discover Maris has not kept her word, I will inform you forthwith.”

“Two, how likely is she to go along with this plan?”

“Maris has her affectations and her moments, but she enjoys – living. If you can call her condition living. Since the alternative you’re offering her is death I think she’ll have no choice.”

“You’re willing to let us kill her?” Buffy asked.

“No,” Niles said. “But that IS her alternative. I would scarcely be lying.”

Buffy looked at Giles, who reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay,” she said. “You also swear that if she calls out the dogs you’ll let us know right away?”

“Of course,” Niles said.

“Then let’s give it a try.”

As Niles knocked on the front door he said, “It might be best if I saw her alone. Having you in the same room with her – might make her crazy. Er.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. Then the door opened and Niles walked inside.

“So I guess we get to sit here and kill time,” Buffy said. “Rock-paper- scissors?”

“Not for all the tea in England,” Giles said.

“Well, I don’t just want to stand around here and be bored,” Buffy protested.

“I have a suggestion,” a voice from the side of the house said. “We could play kill the good guys.” And three vampires in servants’ livery walked into the porchlit area.

“I must say I prefer boredom,” Giles said as they attacked.

* * * * *

As Frasier drove to Niles’ former residence, he began to wonder if he was being a colossal idiot.

God knows, it wouldn’t have been the first time. He seemed to make a habit out of not only taking injury, but deliberately inviting insult to take its shots as well. Perhaps this was some mildly self-destructive urge? Something he should be working out in therapy?

Oh, good going, Frasier. Here Niles is, in potential danger from these two loons, and you’re worried about mildly self-destructive urges. Why not just go completely solipsistic while you’re at it, you jackass?

A loud horn honking shook him from his reverie; he looked up and noticed the traffic light had gone green, and from the cursing behind him he imagined it had been green for quite a while. With a cheery and apologetic hand gesture, he drove through.

The hand gestures Frasier got in response were decidedly LESS cheery.

He simply sniffed and drove on.

It took him maybe twenty minutes to reach the mansion; his best guess put him about fifteen minutes or so behind Niles and the two maniacs, so with any luck they wouldn’t have had enough time to –

To do what? If they’d intended Niles serious bodily harm they certainly could have accomplished that at the hospital. Unless . . .

Unless whatever they were doing required secrecy. As Frasier drove up to the main entrance, he tried to keep his now-panicking brain from alternating rapidly between ever more outlandish scenarios of what was happening, and the probability that at most they were a couple of con artists and possibly just garden-variety cranks.

Which is why when he saw the combat occurring on and near Maris’ front porch it took a couple of seconds for the scene to sink in. But Buffy and Giles were engaged in fisticuffs with three of Maris’ servants. He got out of the car and stormed over. “What in the hell is going on here?”

Mario – who was Maris’ personal cook, which essentially meant he was getting $40,000 a year for sitting around and occasionally hosting a dinner party – looked at him and said, “After Dr. Crane went inside they attacked us!” For just a second his face looked – distorted? No, it must have been the light.

Giles and Buffy didn’t bother answering, so busy were they in pummeling the servants – who astonishingly seemed to be giving as good as they were getting.

Not being accustomed to, or even competent at, the manly art of pugilism, Frasier contented himself with yelling at them and shouting for Niles to get outside . . . until he saw Buffy take out a wooden stake and stab Mario through the heart with it.

His mouth agape, he started forward to grab the young madwoman’s arm, until Giles took something and clouted him over the head.

After that he didn’t know anything for a while.

* * * * *

When Niles heard Frasier yelling, he came out of the house as fast as he could. He hated to interrupt his negotiations with Maris but Frasier had sounded quite serious.

When he opened the front door, he saw Frasier lying off the edge of the front porch, and Buffy and Giles staking Joaquin, the gardener. “Dr. Crane,” Giles said, breathing a bit heavily. “Sorry to have disturbed you. A minute after you left we were set upon by three vampires in servants’ garb; a couple of minutes later your brother stormed up and jumped to the wrong conclusions, and then tried to grab Buffy. I was forced to . . . incapacitate him.”

Niles immediately bent down. “You didn’t hit him that hard,” he said. “I’d guess he should come to in a few moments.” He looked up. “If you don’t need me any further I need to get back to negotiating with Maris.”

“Wait,” Buffy said. “What do we tell him when he wakes up?”

“Tell him the servants overheard you making fun of Maris. Make up a few things -- that should encourage him to play along.”

“Do you think that’ll work?”

“I once heard him go on for forty-five minutes about how skinny she was. I think he compared her to everything short of a bowling ball.”

“Bowling balls aren’t skinny,” Buffy said.

“Which is why he didn’t make that comparison.”

And then he went inside and got back to his negotiations.


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