Xander buried his head a little further in his pillow. He appreciated their efforts to not wake him. Really, he did. It meant they cared for his well being, as friends should. But did they have to be so quiet right at the edge of his bed?
In the haze, he heard the words, but could hardly make any connections with them – Willow was asking Dawn about a necklace and Spike… or maybe Spike’s necklace…
“Wow, that’s kinda… uh…” Willow trailed off.
“Weird? Unsettling? Bizarro?” Dawn offered.
“I was gonna go for cute, but I really wasn’t hitting anywhere near it.”
Whatever this was, they didn’t need to be saying it in the living room. Xander slid his head under the pillow, maybe a little too dramatically. It obviously went unnoticed, because Dawn kept going.
“It’s like some sort of Boo Radley thing.”
“I don’t know about that,” Willow said. “Boo Radley was pale and creepy and everybody thought he was a ghost and – oh.”
“See what I mean?”
There was quick, heavy padding across the carpet, and the boisterous voice of Buffy Summers clamored into the cramped living room of Willow’s apartment.
“Morning, everybody. What’s up?”
Willow, bless her, made an equally thunderous shushing sound, followed by a much more diminutive, “Xander is…”
“No, no,” the carpenter said from under the pillow. “No need to worry about the sleeping guy.” He lurched into a sitting position, tossing aside the sheets on his ascent. “Four hours? Really excessive.”
Willow made her famous Sympathy Face. “She… she kept you up last night again, huh?”
Xander ran a hand through his hair. Boy, did he have that extra-special bedhead. “Yeah. You know those ancient god-kings.” He grinned languidly. “Just chock-full of the big knowledge-yen. She got fixated on C-SPAN last night, had about a gazillion questions. Speaking of, anybody know what the Electoral College is about?”
Buffy shrugged. “I think that’s, like, the big mystery of the universe.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry ‘bout waking you up, Xand.”
He was just about to accept her apology when Dawn swept past them, headed for the coat closet. “So, when did Illyria finally get around to leaving?”
It was Xander’s turn to shrug. “Don’t know. I pulled out the Hide-a-Bed at around Way Too Late, and just shut my eyes. Eye.”
“So, she just left after that?” Dawn asked. Her neck was turned at an awkward angle so she could maintain the conversation and still be able to open the closet in front of her. Xander worried that she was straining something. If she was, her interrogation certainly wasn’t suffering for it. “She actually took a hint? I didn’t think she was capable of – “
“Dawn,” Buffy cut in with her very best Mom voice. “Why don’t you get what you need out of there and then come back over and finish the conversation. Your head’s going to pop off if you keep twisting it like that.”
“Is not.”
“Is so.”
“Fine, whatever.” Dawn turned to the closet as she finished opening the door. Her eyes caught something and she let out a startled “AAAGH!”
Buffy shot to her feet. “Dawnie, what is it?”
Dawn caught her breath and moved away from the closet. Emerging from the storage space with cool, measured steps was Illyria.
“Alexander required his cyclical respite. I adjourned myself from his presence until such time as we could begin our discourse anew.”
Buffy crossed her arms. “And that completely excuses the fact that you spent the night squatting in our closet.”
Illyria cocked her head to the side. “My body was erect. And even if it were not, I do not require your pardon.”
Xander stood, his arms apart as if to separate the bickering parties. “Buffy, please don’t provoke her. Illyria… you can’t just… You shouldn’t wait up for me. I assumed you’d left.”
“Where would I go?”
The carpenter opened his mouth and then closed it again. Illyria didn’t really have a lot of boarding options. It wasn’t like she could just check into the local Y. He looked back at Willow. “You’ve been the chummiest with Angel of the three of us. He gotten his own place yet?”
“Oh, I’m not chummy. I mean, you know, there’s been talking - friendly talking - but no chum.”
“Wil –“
“I think he said something about meeting with the realtor today.”
Buffy looked at Illyria, unblinking. “That’ll be a relief.”
Illyria returned the Slayer’s stare. “You wish to be rid of me. I will not suffer this insolence.”
“Ladies,” Xander rebuked. “Let’s not get overhe-“
“Listen, bluebird,” Buffy said, her face tightening. “You’ll suffer a heck of a lot worse if that’s what it takes to get you out of my hair.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I got a little scared, okay? No need to make this big blotchy thing out of it.”
“Dawn,” Buffy said. “Kind of not the point.”
“Do what you want,” Dawn said. “Me? I’m gonna go get the paper. I wanna check the job listings.”
Buffy was about to tell her to go, but her little sister didn’t wait for approval. She was already gone.
---
Dawn closed the front door behind her. Whatever Buffy’s deal with Illyria was, it was starting to get really tiresome for her. Not that she cared. This whole meshing of two different groups, the return of Spike, being back in California… It was way too much for one girl to deal with in the course of only a few weeks. Throw in a search for lucrative part-time employment, and you had a headache of an intensity that the Hellmouth never saw.
She picked up the newspaper at her feet, shimmied off the rubber band, and immediately went for the classifieds. In her zeal, she failed to notice the headline on the front page – “Fourth Victim Brutalized in Lakeside.”
---
12 Hours Earlier:
Freddie Alvarez was not having a good night. Worse off than him, though, were his poor shoes. Already ragged, they were definitely in their last hours as Freddie pounded them down the alleyway. This thing that was after him had already hospitalized three guys, and he wasn’t about to make it a pain quartet.
If he could just make it to the far end of the alley and onto Main Street, then there would be too many people around, too many witnesses. Whatever the hell was pursuing him wouldn’t risk it. But the damn back street seemed to get longer with every desperate stride. He couldn’t go much further, wasn’t sure if he’d…
Damn. Made it. He looked around. Nobody. Nothin’. He’d lost whatever the hell was chasing him.
A gloved hand from nowhere grabbed him and threw him back in the alley. He crashed against some garbage cans and rolled onto the pavement. He pushed himself up a little, put some weight on his elbows.
The figure approached him. From Freddie’s vantage point, it looked gigantic, monstrous. The streetlights shining behind it kept him from seeing any real details - not that he had a lot of time to look before the figure kicked him squarely in the face, sending him onto his back.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you anything. Anything.”
His tormentor spoke in a distorted, bizarre voice. “You had your chance, Alvarez.” It hauled Freddie up to his feet. “You’ve earned only one thing with it.”
Freddie began to cry. “Wh- What’s that?”
The figure took time to explain, but the single word that came was sheer doom.
“Vengeance.”
Freddie never screamed harder in his life.
---
Rich was bothered by the darkness. He’d been waiting in the front room of the building for a half-hour, waiting for the client to come and sign the paperwork. For some reason, the guy had requested heavy drapes on the front windows, which seemed silly for a place of business, but the customer was always right, he reminded himself.
He figured he couldn’t be too annoyed, however. He had arrived early, after all. And the walls here were all white, so what little light did come in was reflected nicely. He ran his hand over the particleboard reception desk – a leftover from the previous owners – and he wondered if the new guy would be keeping it or not.
A quick checklist ran through his head. Were the second floor apartments clean? Yes. Third floor loft cleaned and also draped? Yes. Storage room in the back had been swept and the big alley access doors had been oiled.
Rich stuck his head in the small office behind him. The shelving units hadn’t been put up – all the slats and screws were just sitting on the floor. Dammit. First assignment the boss ever sent him on, and something wasn’t finished. Rich weighed the pros and cons of putting up the units himself, but decided to let it lay.
“Hi.”
Rich spun around and found him face to face with somebody kind of familiar. The newcomer had a bit of a brow overhang, a skin tone that indicated that his previous residences had all been heavily draped, and an aura of self-importance. Must be the client. “Hi! Hi.” He shut the office door. “I kind of expected you to come through…”
“Come through the front, yeah. Don’t worry about it. You must be Rich.”
Rich flicked the nametag on the breast pocket of his shirt. “That’s me.”
The client removed a hand from his leather jacket and stuck it out, “I’m…”
“Leonard Taubman of the Taubman Foundation.” The realization skipped Rich’s brain and went straight for his mouth.
Mr. Taubman, for his part, looked surprised. “Uh, I’m, uh…”
“The office said it was supposed to be this guy named Angel, but I was like, what kind of name is that?”
“It’s a perfectly good name.”
“Oh, I –“
The client’s brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”
“You probably don’t remember, sir. I was just a student at the university. You came in, asked for some information about Gene Rainy, and then you fought off those pale fellas with weird eyes.”
Mr. Taubman put his hands on his hips. “I fight a lot of pale fellas with weird eyes.”
“Most exciting day of my life, sir.”
“Guess that makes you a lucky guy.”
There was a silence. Rich chewed his lip a little, while his client glowered.
Finally, the paler-skinned man spoke, his tone one of annoyance. “When I talked to your superiors, they said this meeting was just a formality; all my paperwork is in order, and you can hand over the deed to this place today.”
Rich smiled broadly. “Absolutely, sir. And can I say, what a pleasure it is to be able to do business with an individual as distinguished as yourself.”
“Uh, sure.”
“All the fantastic work you must do with education grants and scholarships…”
“Actually, we’re moving more towards helping the hopeless.”
Rich grin widened. “You mean, like, the poor and disenfranchised?”
“Something like that. Can we get on with this?”
The paperwork was laid out on the reception desk, and Mr. Taubman began thumbing through the fine print, reading each section carefully but expediently before signing or initialing.
Rich bounced on the balls of his feet once. “It’s all there, plain as day. Black and white.”
“Heard that before.” Examine. Examine. Sign. Initial.
“Did they tell you about the secondary office down the hall? Could be useful. Oh, and we arranged with your storage company to have your belongings delivered, free of charge…”
“Great, great.” Examine. Sign. Examine.
“The second floor has outside access, so you can rent the apartments out for extra income or…”
Mr. Taubman slammed his pen down on the desk and shot the realtor an annoyed look. “You know, I already went through all of this. I’m signing to buy the place right now. Why are you selling it to me a second time?”
“It’s… I… “
“Little business tip, son. Know when you’ve made the sale. Are we done here?”
Rich backed up a few paces. “Uh, yessir.”
“Great.” Mr. Taubman thrust the papers at Rich, and stalked down the back hallway. “I’m making sure the loft was cleaned. When I get back, I expect you gone.”
The nervous realtor practically knocked the front door down in his scramble to get out. In the confusion, he failed to notice that all of the papers in his hand had been signed “Angel.”
---
Dawn walked back into the apartment, the mess of newspapers tucked haphazardly under her arm. Xander was the only one in here, sitting on the couch that was no longer a bed. He was thinking about something, but Dawn couldn’t tell what. He looked up at her, and gave her a melancholy little half-smile.
“No joy in the job section?”
“Joy-devoid,” she replied. “Saw Illyria leave. She seemed pissed.”
“She’s always pissed. It’s like ancient demagoguery requires soaking in vinegar twice daily.”
Dawn shrugged and handed him the paper. “I’ll be in my room.”
As she headed back, she heard Buffy and Willow discussing something in the kitchen - probably Slayer-related things. Dawn opened the door to her room just as Buffy popped her head into the hallway.
“Hey, Dawnie. I need you to find a cab company that has a handicap-accessible van. Gunn’s checking out of the hospital today, and we haven’t figured out how the wheelchair thing is going to work yet.”
Dawn turned to her sister. “Sure. Fine. Make me call around for the bitter guy’s transportation needs. It’s not like you can’t do it.”
“I _know_ you meant to say, ‘Gee, thanks, sister-who-I-love-so-much.’”
“Fine…”
“Great. Check the Yellow Pages first, but hit the ‘Net if you have to.”
Dawn rolled her eyes, and turned back to the living room for the phone book.
---
Buffy watched her sister walk off, then turned back to Willow. “Huh. I thought she liked Gunn.”
“Oh, she does. It’s just the whole thing with looking after a guy we barely know. Starts to wear ya down after a while.”
Buffy frowned. “Him most of all.” She shook her head and changed the subject. “Anyway. Black box. Bomby thing. Continue.”
Willow sat down on her bed. “It’s kinda weird. I mean, there wasn’t anything there that could’ve caused anything major in the way of property damage, but it was protected by all these different measures. I don’t get it.”
“Well, you said it might have been some kids horsing around,” Buffy offered.
“Yeah. Kids with access to explosives. That’s high on my creepy meter.”
“So, I’m almost afraid to ask this, but… how was Angel?”
“Charging ahead guy. I think he’s still miffed that the universe doesn’t want him dead. Kinda takes that feelin’ of self-importance away, big time.”
“Hey guys!” Xander yelled from the living room. “You gotta see this thing in the paper!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I swear - if it’s another hilarious ‘Get Fuzzy,’ I’m going to take paper privileges away.”
“You tell ‘em, General Buffy,” Willow mocked.
“Don’t EVEN joke about that.”
Xander’s discovery, Buffy found, was not a comic strip, but a front-page article. “Fourth victim brutalized in Lakeside,” she read aloud. “Where’s Lakeside?”
“It’s a suburb in East San Diego County,” Willow said.
Buffy skimmed the rest. “Huh. All four victims are described as ‘youths,’ but they don’t give any names, just that they all went to El Capitan High School. Their attacker’s described as gigantic and inhumanly strong, though. Definitely sounds like Slayer territory.”
“We’re field tripping to Lakeside, then?” Dawn asked.
“We are,” Buffy confirmed. “You’re not. I still need somebody to pick up Gunn from the hospital. I’m sure you and Andrew can handle it. You’re getting the van, right?”
“No. I’m hoping it’ll magically appear.”
“Very funny. Make whatever arrangements you need to with Andrew. I really appreciate it.”
Willow gave Dawn a pat on the shoulder. “We’ll give you a full update later, ‘kay, hon?”
“Fine.”
“Cool, then. Let’s mount up,” Xander said with a grin. “The Original Three, together again.”
Buffy smiled back, “Just like old times.”
---
Liz Laramie practically skipped down the hallway of El Capitan High School. The grin on her face would’ve had people speculating she’d lost her virginity if anybody on campus thought that was even a remote possibility for a girl so entirely uncool. Her cheerful reverie made a stop at locker #47, where her best friend Jaime was putting away his books.
“Did you read the paper this morning?” she singsonged.
Jaime looked over at her and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been reading the paper every morning lately,” he said solemnly.
The dour mood of Liz’s friend didn’t dampen her own in the least. “The Nocturne struck again! Another blow in the name of justice!”
“Yeah. Great,” Jaime said. “Good for justice. Why didn’t you call me last night?”
Liz shrugged. “I did. Your line was busy.”
“Could’ve hopped online.”
“I didn’t have time. What’s your problem, Jaime?”
“Nothing.” Jaime scowled. “Just… next time you want to come bouncing up to me about The Nocturne, give a damn about how I feel, too.”
---
Angel finished screwing the last of the bookshelves into the wall in his new office. He stood back and surveyed his work. Not bad for a guy with just a screwdriver and vampire strength. Most folks would need one of those fancy electric drills. Being undead had its benefits.
Using an ornate ceremonial dagger, a memento from his days at Wolfram & Hart, Angel cut open the cardboard box on the floor, and pushed open the flaps. He carefully pulled out the book on the top of the pile. Some guide to obscure demons – not terribly rare, but still useful. The templates from the law offices were useless now, and he was glad he’d had some of the old books put into storage.
He cracked open the cover. There was a note in black pen on the inside:
“Wesley – for your collection. Try not to embarrass the Council in Sunnydale.”
It was signed “Roger Wyndam-Pryce.” Angel stared at the book for a while. It was nice enough, but nothing so valuable that losing it would have been upsetting to the scholarly world. The binding, now that he felt it, was done professionally, but with faux leather. The “gold” lettering on the spine was already starting to peel off a little, leaving little letter-shaped indentations.
“I still can’t believe you brought him in.” It was the last thing Wes ever said to him. A statement of trust – that Angel was playing Lindsey fair at all. Wes betrayed him more than any other member of his team, the vampire mused, but the ex-Watcher still would have gone to hell for him. Did go to hell for him.
Angel didn’t hear the knocking on the front door for almost a full minute.
---
Spike smacked his hand against the counter. “’Nother whiskey sour, mate. Fer old times sake.”
The bartender eyed him. “Old time’s sake? This is the first time I’ve seen you here.”
The vampire nodded. “Right. And I’ve had five whiskey sours. The sixth is officially when I become a member of this fine establishment,” he said, waving his hand at the smoky and mostly empty bar.
The bartender, whose nametag indicated he was a Tom, poured the drink as requested. “I’m not one to pry, usually…”
“Bollocks.”
“But it seems like you’ve had an awful lot to drink in the middle of the day.”
“Well, I like it in here. It’s cozy. Not too many people to get in my way, no exes to give me hairy eyeballs, no little sisters tellin’ me to piss off. Plus, the sunlight is bright and cheery on the other side of that wall, and I don’t much fancy it.”
“Vampire, huh?”
Spike peered at the man passing him his alcohol. “What makes you say that?”
“Meh. Get ‘em in here sometimes. Not as many as I saw back in Sunnydale, mind you.”
Spike gripped his drink but didn’t make any move to pick it up. “Ah, you’re from the ‘dale, then. Seems like everybody’s spent a little time in those parts. Not that it’s done anybody much good.” He brought the glass up to his lips and took a long pull, letting the Jack Daniels and lemon juice burn in his mouth.
---
Jaime burst into America’s Heroes Comic Shop.
Roy, a bulky, middle-aged guy with a permanent tan, glanced up from the register. “Ain’t you supposed to be in school?”
The high school freshman’s prepubescent voice only barely managed to convey his rage. “You sent The Nocturne out on the hunt last night.”
Roy leaned over the glass counter, his size dwarfing Jaime. “Keep. Your. Voice. Down.” He subtly checked the surveillance monitors behind him. “You’re lucky nobody’s in the store, kid. That’s bad tactics, announcin’ operations like that.”
“Roy – Freddie Alvarez is in the hospital. That’s four.” Jaime ticked off the others on his fingers. “Cris Manuel needs facial reconstruction, Sammy Franks is still in critical condition, and Dan Jamison… they say Dan might not wake up.”
“So? Those hoodlums are scum.”
“When does it stop, Roy?”
“It stops when this town is a decent place to live. When we got Smallville instead of Gotham. That was the deal. Freddie was part of the problem. We all know that – you, me, Liz…”
“Leave Liz out of this!” Jaime punched the wall. “Ow.” He shook his aching hand a little, and then continued. “I’m still a part of the pact here. Don’t send The Nocturne out again without talking to me.”
Roy snorted. “Or what? You’re just the puny little kid who makes the gadgets.”
“Right. I make the gadgets,” Jaime said. “And I might stop making them.”
“You do that,” Roy said. “You see how far that gets you.”
---
Reconnaissance runs to nearby hospitals yielded no new information, but Willow managed to hack into the high school’s network and pull the attendance records. Of the thirteen excused absences that day, five had been tagged “Medical Reasons.” Four of those five were, according to the student records, troublemakers with very colorful permanent records. Buffy decided that was enough of strong lead -- they were heading for El Capitan High School.
The three of them stood in front of the school's main building. It was squat and yellow, with a low-pitched roof. It was much smaller and less affluent looking than Sunnydale High, but it was certainly better maintained. Buffy could see Xander calculating construction costs in his head as they walked inside.
Buffy observed the curiously high amount of student bustle. “What kind of school has class in July?”
“This kind,” Willow said. “I read that El Capitan is trying a year-round thing.”
Xander shook his head. “That’s inhumane!”
“Probably,” Buffy agreed. “We need to get to work, though. Xander, you want to get the main office, pull whatever you can that’s not on the computers?”
“Do I get to be subterfuge guy?”
“If you want.”
Xander clapped his hands together. “Cool. What are you guys going to do?”
“Wil and I are going undercover as transfer students.”
“Whoa,” Willow threw up her hands. “You think that’ll work? I mean, we’re both 23 here. You think people will buy us as high schoolers?”
Buffy shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Plenty of Hollywood actors in their 20s play high schoolers.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t ‘The O.C.”
“No, it’s a high school. Find a computer lab. Fit in.”
Willow turned and walked off, with a little stomp in her step. Buffy was giving orders a little too easily. Again.
Buffy turned back to Xander. “You ready to do this?”
“Got my mission, captain.”
“Great. I’m going to catch the gossip in the schoolyard.”
---
Angel opened the front door, stepping away from the sunlight that invaded the reception area. Dawn pushed Gunn in. The former Wolfram & Hart legal ace was sitting uncomfortably in a wheelchair, his left leg in a cast that pointed straight out. Andrew, yammering away, was the last one to enter.
“…not that I don’t appreciate that you are a hunter of the vam-pyres, Mr. Gunn, but I’m just saying that Dawn should’ve handled this mission on her own. I could’ve been doing lots and lots of important Watcher’s Council stuff.”
Gunn scowled.
“Hey, Angel,” Dawn said, closing the door. “Sorry about the, uh, tension. Andrew’s been complaining since the hospital. Gunn was giving him serious crap about it until about five minutes ago when he finally just gave up.”
“Yo, just get little Lord Fauntleroy outta my face,” Gunn growled.
“How’re you feeling?” Angel asked.
Gunn looked up at him. “If I had a dime for every time somebody asked me that today? I’d have enough money for the government to rebuild me bigger, faster, and stronger.”
“Uh, yeah, no,” Andrew admonished. “The Austin technology is only theoretical and probably couldn’t help you in this scenario. But apparently, it can make your Internet up to five times faster!”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’ll take Gunn to his room.” Angel stepped aside, but Dawn didn’t move.
“Something wrong?” the vampire asked.
“Uh, no. Just that I don’t know where his room _is_.”
“Down that hallway, first right. It’s a little cramped, Gunn, but it’s the only available space on the first floor.”
“Whatever gets me outta the damn hospital.”
Dawn went to grab the handlebars on the chair, but Gunn stopped her. He gave the wheels a little test push, and, satisfied that he could move under his own power, rolled over to his new room. He leg bumped against the doorway, and he strained to get the doorknob. Andrew sighed with annoyance and walked over to help him, but Gunn barked, “You come near this, and I will end you.”
With a little wrangling, Gunn managed to get a grip on the knob, and he disappeared inside, slamming the door behind him.
After the requisite awkward silence, Dawn stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans and announced she liked the place. “It’s got… potential. For lots of stuff. What are you doing with it?”
“Thought I’d start up another detective agency. Paranormal activity. Help me keep my ear to the ground for whatever’s coming next.”
“Oh, yeah? Just you and your lonesome, then?”
“Lonesome and me is a bad combination. It’ll be me and Gunn, when he calms down. Maybe Illyria for some of the muscle. Possibly-Spike-but-probably-not.” Angel drummed his fingers on the reception desk. “Calling it Champion Investigations. Think the Angel name’s gotten a little too conspicuous lately for the wrong reasons.”
“Champion Investigations, eh?” Andrew balked. “Quite a name for your new little den of evil.”
“Will you drop that, already? I already told you…”
“Yes, yes. We went over this before the black box incident. Can’t help but find it interesting how easily you fall back into old patterns. Start an agency, load with willing individuals, watch them all die in your misguided attempts at ‘screwing the man.’”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Andrew, you’re free to go home now.”
“That’s okay. I beat Ninja Gaiden last night, so I don’t have anything better to do.”
Angel crossed his arms. “What about all that important Watcher’s Council business?”
“Actually, I’m on it. Giles says I’m s’posed to keep an eye on your new hangout, make sure everything’s legit.”
“Great. Just what I need. The Council breathing down my neck.” Angel rapped his knuckles against the desk. “Fine, Andrew. Take a look around; see if you like anything. I’ll be in my office. You interrupted my unpacking.”
Andrew crossed his arms. “Ancient relics of evil?”
“No,” Angel said. “Books.”
Dawn lit up. “Ooh, research books?”
“Yeah. Wes’s old stuff.”
“Can I look?”
---
Xander walked into the El Capitan main office and sauntered over to the desk, putting out his best “official capacity” air. The woman behind the desk couldn’t have been less than 80 years old. Her gray hair was piled up in a beehive ‘do was circa 1967. Her skin, the same basic color as her hair, was dry and wrinkled. When she looked up, her gaze went straight for the eyepatch. “Can I help you?”
Xander gave her a look of deadly seriousness. “Ma’am, I think you might have to help me.”
“Pardon?”
Xander pull out his wallet and flipped it open and shut too quickly for her to catch anything. “Will Tippin, SD-6. I’m going to need to know everything there is to know about these students.” He pushed the list towards the woman.
“These are the boys in the hospital. I – I don’t understand.”
“It’s best that you don’t. And, uh, don’t tell anybody I’m talking to you. This is classified, on the down low, and strictly hush-hush.”
---
Buffy looked for a cafeteria, but found that the school eatery was nothing more than a few food service windows on the quad. She scouted the area for the popular kids. If Buffy knew anything about high school dynamics, the in-crowd would definitely have all the juicy gossip, up to and including anything about the students involved in the beatings.
There. Six girls spread out under the shadiest tree, wearing clothes she wouldn’t let Dawn go clubbing in. Chatting incessantly, and looking for the world like a gaggle of Harmonys, the group was led by a single Latina girl with the very spark of Cordelia in her.
Buffy brashly walked over and plopped down beside them. “Hey, guys. My name’s Summer. I’m the new transfer student. Can you _believe_ some of clothing on these girls? Goodwill wouldn’t take it.”
The Latina raised an eyebrow. “Who the hell are you?”
“Summer. I thought I said.”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay, this girl was unimpressed by sheer bravado. Buffy decided to switch direct to the most pressing topic. “So, didja hear about those awful beatings? Did anybody know the guys who got hurt?”
The would-be Cordelia’s words were sheer ice. “No. Why don’t you go to the classrooms where the losers eat and ask people who care?”
One of the braindead Harmony Lites chimed in, “Yeah. Did somebody forget to put their anti-wrinkle cream on this morning? Because you’re really showing your age, ‘Mom.’”
“Hey, I just wanted to chat up.”
Faux-Cordelia flashed her pearly white teeth. “And we just wanted to tell you to quit wasting our air.”
“Wow. You guys are all going to marry rich and lead deeply unfulfilling lives,” Buffy said and stormed off.
One of the Harmony Lites cocked her head, confused. “I thought that was the point.”
---
Willow was scrunched down in the plastic chair in the computer lab, worked furiously on the school workstation. She glanced around every once in a while to make sure nobody was watching her or making a move to throw her out. Generally speaking, trying to hack into the principal’s personal files was considered kind of a no-no.
Another firewall. Whoever designed the school’s network security system hadn’t made it complicated so much as convoluted – nothing but tiny, easily broken barriers, but lots and lots of them, and always in weird and unexpected places.
“Trying to break in?”
Willow’s head whipped around. The girl over her left shoulder was looking more amused than anything. “Uh, no. Why… why do you say that?”
“Because everybody tries to get into the principal’s computer at some point. Those with computer skills, anyway. And besides, what’s on your screen? Looks exactly like somebody trying to hack a network. Good luck.”
“Uh, thanks.”
The girl grinned. “My name’s Liz."
Willow smiled back. "Bet it's Liz Laramie."
"Ohmygod, how did you know that?"
"You have it penned into your binder."
"Oh, nice detective work," Liz said. "So, are you like a student teacher here?"
“Yup. That’s me. Student teacher girl. Willow.” She gave a purposeful nod. “But that’s Miss Rosenberg to you.”
Liz pulled up a chair next to Willow. “You won’t get in. My buddy Jaime tried one time, and he’s like Microchip with this stuff.”
“Microchip?”
“Yeah, the tech guy from ‘The Punisher.’”
“I didn’t see that movie.”
Liz snorted derisively. “Don’t you know *anything*? Microchip’s in the *comic*.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Jaime’s like, a total whiz with computers and stuff, and he had a hard time with the system.”
“Did he get in?”
“You’re a teacher. Probably a bad idea to tell you at all.”
“Oh.” Willow frowned. “Well, maybe you can help me with something else. I’m trying to find out about those four boys who were beaten up. You know anything about it?”
“No,” Liz said a bit too quickly. Willow wanted to question her further, but a “Bring Me to Life” ringtone chirped from the student’s cell phone and she answered. “Hello?” She looked at Willow, whispered, “I have to take this,” and bounced off.
---
Dawn stuck another book up on the shelf. “Wow… this is a pretty awesome collection, Angel.”
“Thanks. It’s mostly Wes’s. He was, he was good with the books.”
Dawn gave him a sympathetic look. “You miss him, don’t you?”
If Angel did, he didn’t show it. “Just know that I’m down a research guy on the team.”
“We so don’t have that problem over at Casa Scooby. Willow and me are heavy researchers, and Xander even gets into it these days, plus, you know,” she jerked her head upstairs where a pair of feet was ineffectually trying to sneak around, “Andrew, if and only if we need him.”
“Not too fond of the mini-Watcher, I take it.”
“It's not that. He's cool most of the time. It's just... he gets on a lot of other people's nerves. They don't really get him. Like, Buffy practically wanted to strangle him in Italy. He crashed at our place for way too long. But then again, you knew about that.”
Angel’s gaze fell to the floor. “Uh, yeah.”
“Stopped by and all you wanted to do was talk to Buffy. Didn’t even ask about how I was doing.”
“Well, we thought she was in peril,” Angel explained.
“And if she was, I wouldn’t be?”
“Well, I mean, you went without saying, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Dawn – “
“Look, Angel, I gotta say this once. I know the chances of you and my sister getting back together are zero approaching nil, but…”
“But what?”
Her hands balled into fists at her side. “If you hurt her again, I swear to God…”
“It’s not happening, Dawn. I’m just trying to move on here,” Angel reassured her. “Could you hand me Geritman’s Index of Lower Beings, please?”
Dawn smiled again. “You have a Geritman’s? I’ve been looking for one those for-EVER.”
---
Storage Room B hadn’t seen use in years. It was a forgotten part of the school, the kind of place that administrators only thought of when they were worried about space efficiency. Most of the time, it just held outdated teaching materials. Right now, though, it also housed a nervous Jaime.
Jaime stared at the device in front of him. It was the size of a soda can, and not inappropriately – it was built from a used Pepsi container. It would be pretty advanced tech for any other high school freshman, but not Jaime. Once he understood the basic theory, he could apply it endlessly given the right materials. And now, he thought to himself, he had to destroy what he’d applied it to.
The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. It was a familiar feeling that came whenever – crap.
“Is it finished?” The Nocturne’s distorted voice asked him.
“No.”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
“Yeah,” Jaime said, resignation in his voice. “It’s finished.”
“Good. I need it for a mission.”
“You’re going out during the day?” the boy asked.
“Something needs...” The Nocturne searched for words. “Something needs attending to.”
“When’s this going to end? Why do we keep doing this?”
“You know why.”
“Remind me.”
The Nocturne flexed a fist. “I have the power. That’s why.”
---
“You know what I hate about high school?” Buffy announced as she sat at the picnic bench outside the gym. “High schoolers. Seriously, how could we ever stand us?”
Xander patted the stack of manila folders in front of him. “Well, my mission was a success. All four student files, lots of interesting cross-referencing to be done. Nobody can withstand my crazy super-spy prowess.”
“’Danger Man?’” Willow asked.
“’Alias,’” Xander grinned. “How was your part of Operation El Capitan, Wil?”
“No go,” she sighed. “Cracked into the principal’s files, but there was nothing. Funny thing, though – I ran a keystroke check, looking for the names, and there had been files at one time, but they were deleted just before the attacks started. Also, there was a girl in the computer lab who mentioned that somebody named Jaime had tried to do the same thing.”
Buffy grabbed the top folder off of Xander’s pile. “Keep an eye out for that name, then, guys. Looks like we have reading to do.”
Willow grabbed the next file down. “Hey, you know, smallish town like this, there’s probably not that much demonic activity. I could probably do a spell – “
“No,” Buffy asserted. “I don’t want to have to bring in magick unless it’s necessary.”
“Hey, look,” Willow said, “I’ve got the evil thing under control now. I’m not going to go veiny over a demon locator spell.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not worried about the veiny. I’m worried about the unnecessary waste of time. This can probably be solved by good old-fashioned legwork.”
“Buff’s probably right here,” Xander said, not even looking up from his research. “Old-fashioned good, bread good, alone bad.”
Buffy looked at him. "Alone bad?"
Xander blinked. "Hm? Oh, nothing. 'Frankenstein?' Love dead, hate living? You know?"
Buffy didn't.
They read in silence for a while, Willow pouting a little. They exchanged bits and pieces when something pertinent came up. All four victims had been involved in criminal mischief on a pretty regular basis. They all knew each other, although they were only loosely associated.
“The lists of in-school infractions are as long as yours was,” Willow said.
Buffy turned slightly red at that. “Yes, thank you for that ugly reminder of all things Snyder.”
Willow’s lightbulb went off. "I have a plan." She grinned devilishly as she laid it out for Buffy and Xander.
---
Willow and Buffy walked down an alleyway in what passed for a downtown in Lakeside. It was still daylight, so the foreboding factor was somewhat low, but the duo found the area kind of ooky nonetheless.
“It’s… not really a bad place,” Willow said. “Kinda like Sunnydale, but, uh, completely not. Its way less Hellmouthy.”
Buffy nodded. “How much farther to the Internet café?”
Willow hefted her laptop case from one shoulder to another. “Just another block, I think.”
SWISH! A human blur pushed past them.
Willow looked down, astonishment in her eyes. Her bag was missing. “HEY! That’s my laptop!”
Buffy turned to give chase, but the computer-snatcher was getting farther and farther away.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a figure landed on the ground in front of the robber. It knocked the crook back towards Buffy and Willow, then came stalking towards its prone victim. Its distorted voice squawked, “No room for petty thieves in my town!”
Xander, clutching Wil’s laptop case, looked up at the menacing demon-avenger-thing. The ploy had worked, but as he watched a foot curl back to break his face or his ribs, he wondered if it hadn’t worked a little too well.
Buffy dove underneath Xander’s attacker, knocking it off its feet, and sending it tumbling to the ground. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t humongous. It was taller than she was, sure, but only by half a foot or so. Dark nights tended to make monsters get bigger in people’s minds, the Slayer figured.
Buffy was surprised to find herself receiving a face full of foot as the monster flipped off the ground. She staggered back a few paces and felt blood running out of her nose. “Nice move, crimebuster,” she spat. “But let’s see you handle a Slayer.” She threw her fists at her adversary’s face, but she was too well matched. A missed punch followed every landed one.
The monster dropped to the floor and used a sweep kick to knock Buffy to her rear. Then it grabbed the Slayer and began wrestling with her. The two were rolling across the ground, until Buffy managed to throw her opponent off and get back to her feet. She dodged a thrown garbage can only to return to a well-timed kick to the chest that sent her air sailing
Buffy landed on her back, hard. She painfully rolled to her feet with just enough time to start defending herself from the barrage of blows the monster was tossing at her. She managed to shake the haze of pain and battle long enough to realize that whatever this was… it was wearing a mask, one that covered its entire head.
After dodging another ferocious punch, After dodging another ferocious punch, Buffy reached up, grabbed the material of the mask, and started pulling. If she could just get it off, she could… WAM! She was knocked to the ground. Halted by her injuries, she watched a Pepsi can drop to the ground and then explode in a blinding flash of light. The last thing Buffy saw before her sight was completely obliterated was her adversary’s mask, clutched in her hands.
---
Buffy’s headache was threatening to rip her forehead in two, but at least her vision was clearing up. All she could make out were splotches shaped like Xander and Willow, but it was enough to realize she wasn’t dead. She leaned against the wall of the alley. “Where did it go?”
“Kinda ran off after the big flashy light show,” Willow said.
“Did you guys see what kind of demon it was? Are we talking apocalypse worshipper, king of the monsters, or hellgod?”
Xander scratched the back of his neck. “Uh…”
“Well?”
Willow put a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “It wasn’t so much a demon as… well, just a girl.”
Buffy arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“I met her at the high school earlier. I think her name’s Liz. She’s a kid.”
Buffy shook her head. “Nonono. You guys got all mixed up because of the flash soda bomb thing. This was a big, scaly demon of some kind with huge…”
Xander looked embarrassed for her.
Buffy took a few sharp breaths and watched the blobs of her vision coalesce into more meaningful objects. Finally, she said, “It was a new Slayer, wasn’t it?”
Willow gave a sympathetic half-smile. “I think so.”
Buffy smacked the brick alley wall. “How the hell did she beat me? I’ve been slaying since I was 15. She’s had her powers for, what, a year?”
“You’ve been out of practice for a little while, Buff,” Xander said. “And she had some incredible moves out there. Maybe she has a Watcher we don’t know about.”
Willow pulled her cellphone out and punched the speed dial. “I’m calling Andrew, see what he knows, or what he can find out. He can… hey, Andrew. It’s Willow…”
Xander furrowed his brow. “There was something familiar about this, but I can’t put my finger on…" He snapped his fingers. "Costume.”
“What about it?” Buffy asked.
“It’s a poor Slayer’s version of ‘The Nocturne.’” Off of Buffy’s uncomprehending — and somewhat unfocused — look, he explained further. “It was a limited run comic from the mid-90s. Independent publisher. You’d have to be a real geek to know it.”
Buffy balked. “Wait. We’ve got a new Slayer on our hands who thinks she’s a superhero?”
“Costumed vigilante, more like. Always going on about vengeance and doling out pummelings that made Frank Miller cringe. Lot of shops wouldn’t even carry it.”
“Lovely,” Buffy sighed. “But, she’s a teenage girl. How is that she sounded like the voice of God?”
Xander whipped the mask out of his back pocket. “Wil found a homemade voice altering thing sewn into the fabric. Check this out – “ He held the tattered cloth to his face and spoke, his voice coming out in electronic tones. “Luke, I am your – “
“Got it.”
Willow covered the mouthpiece of the phone and looked up at Buffy and Xander. “Andrew doesn’t know anything about any Slayers in Lakeside.”
“No, he probably wouldn’t,” Buffy said. “Tell him to find out what the local comic book shop is, and to figure out a way to get there. I need him to do some geek recon.”
---
Liz limped into Storage Room B. Her face was bruised and swollen, and her lip was bleeding a little. The costume of The Nocturne was ripped in a number of places.
Jaime ran over and caught her as she stumbled a little. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry, I made sure nobody saw me come in. I was careful.”
“I mean the bruises, Liz. You look like you took a pretty bad beating.”
Liz sat down on a crate. “Some girl was looking too hard into The Nocturne’s battles for justice. I told Roy about it, and he said she might uncover my secret identity, so he sent me after her, scare her a little.”
“Just scare her?”
“I swear I wasn’t going to hurt her. She wasn’t a criminal, so it would be against the pact. Anyway, somebody stole her purse, though, and I went after him. It was a set-up. They were there to take me down.”
“They? Who else?”
“I don’t know, but she was strong. And fast. If it hadn’t been for that flash bomb you made, I might not have gotten out of there alive.”
“Alive?”
“I called Roy on the communicator – “
“It’s a cell phone.”
She repeated herself carefully. “On… the communicator. As I was running away, I called him. He said that I must’ve caught the attention of some super-villain hit squad, and they were coming for me.”
“Super-villain hit squad? Do you realize how crazy that sounds, Liz?”
Liz stood up and looked Jaime in the eye. She was a little taller than him, but without the mask, not quite as threatening. “We live in a world of superheroes, Jaime. We know that now. I’m proof of it. Roy says – “
“Roy says this, Roy says that,” Jaime said. “Roy’s been saying an awful lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think we should trust him anymore.”
Liz glared at Jaime. “He trained me. He helped me design the costume. He’s the founding member of the pact.”
“I know, I know.”
“’In brightest day, in darkest night, no evil shall escape our sight,’” Liz intoned.
“Yeah, I know the pact. I was the one who yanked it from a back issue of ‘Green Lantern,’ remember?”
“I need the back-up mask. I have evil to vanquish.”
Jaime shook his head. “Oh, no. You do this, you go after this one… You do it without me. I’m through with this insanity, Liz. I’m done.” With that, he walked out of the room.
“Fine,” Liz said. She grabbed the mask off the wall behind Jaime’s workbench and pulled it on. The distorted voice of The Nocturne said, “I will have my vengeance.”
---
“Daaaaaaawn…” Andrew’s voice droned down the back hallway of Champion Investigations. “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaawwn…” He found her in Angel’s office, flipping idly through a musty-looking tome. “We have to go. We have a mission.”
“Hold on. Angel was just telling me about how he actually managed to get the Pergamum Codex.”
“It’s really not that great of a story,” Angel said, shrugging. “I mean, it kind of ends with your sister dying.”
“And, suprisingly, that part of the tale does get old after five million tellings.”
Andrew huffed impatiently. “Hello? Mission? Grave importance?”
“Take Gunn,” offered Dawn.
“What? Gunn? He’s – “
“In need of some fresh air,” Angel said. “Good thinking, Dawn. I’m sure we can get that special needs van back here for wherever it is you're going.” Angel shut the office door in Andrew’s face, halting any further protests.
---
Willow clicked off her phone. “That was Andrew. Whining. Angel’s making him take Gunn along.”
Xander turned the steering wheel left and shrugged. “What’s so bad about that? Gunn seems like an okay guy.”
“Apparently, Andrew’s kinda made him extra-ragey.”
Xander smiled. “Yeah, well. Andrew has that effect on people.” He turned to Buffy in the passenger seat. “How are your eyes?”
Buffy waved a diffident hand in front of her face. “20/20 again.” She turned to look out the car window.
Willow reached forward and gave her friend’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That fight was a fluke, hon. You’ll win the next one.”
“I know,” Buffy replied with all the conviction of a person who didn’t know.
Xander turned the car onto a residential street. “This is where the school records say Liz lives?”
Willow nodded. “Elizabeth Laramie. Right here.”
Xander pulled the car up to the curb. “I like that she's got the alliteration thing. Like Peter Parker or Lois Lane or Gee I'm A Geek.”
Willow nodded. “Hear hear.” She climbed out of the car and walked up to the front door of the ranch-style house and knocked on the front door. An older woman with brown curly hair answered. After a brief conversation, Willow returned to the car.
“Nope. She hasn’t seen Liz since this morning and this isn’t the first time Liz has disappeared at night. Her mom’s worried sick.”
“Good mom,” Buffy said.
“Yeah,” Willow said. “Looks like the next stop is this Jaime kid, then.”
---
Angel was giving Dawn the full tour of his new place. At the moment, she was enjoying the apartments on the second floor.
“You could totally put all sorts of cool tenants up here,” Dawn said, excitedly. “I mean, yeah, you’d have to keep track of their rent and everything, but with a dedicated office manager, it should be a cinch. You are renting these out, right?”
“Didn’t really think about it.” Angel admitted. “I like having the space open, just in case. You never know who’s going to need shelter.”
Angel’s third-floor loft was huge, and the fact that it was completely bare made it seem even bigger. Dawn flipped off her shoes and slid around on the hardwood floor in her socks. “Oh, this is completely cool.”
“Haven’t had a chance to move any furniture in yet…”
Dawn did a little flourished twirl. “No, it’s great. It’s like a canvas, waiting for paint. I like it!”
They went back downstairs. Angel explained he was going to use the storage room as a training area as soon as he was done using it for actual storage.
“That’d be awesome,” Dawn said. “You could spar with Buffy while I’m looking up the latest threat or something. Just like old times. Except, you know, I’m adding in me as research girl, cuz if the monks can stick me in everybody’s memories, I can give myself a book and a part in the action.”
When they returned to Angel’s office, Dawn headed for the bookshelves immediately, skimming Sumerian passages about the reign of frogs in 2067. “This is so cool. Our resources are way drained, with the Watcher’s Council building demolished and Sunnydale a hole in the ground. Two biggest repositories of hard copy mystical texts, completely wiped off the face of the Earth. Really unfair.”
Angel watched her, the cogs in his brain whirring.
---
Gunn wheeled himself into the comic shop, with Andrew trailing after him. Roy stood at the counter, glowering.
Andrew walked up to the large man, and leaned over the glass top. “Um, hi. I was wondering if I could pre-order the next issue of 'X-Statix.' Do you have a discount for that?”
“Yo, keep your head in the game,” Gunn called out. “Long as we out in the boondocks, might as well get somethin’ done, aight?” He wheeled towards the back of the store, disappearing into the back issues aisle.
“Right, sorry. Let me try that again, sir.” The junior Watcher cleared his throat. “My name’s Andrew, and this is my associate Mr. Gunn. We’re here for some information.”
“No, I don’t know when the next issue of 'Planetary' is comin’ out.”
“What? Really? I mean, no. Um, one of your patrons. About my height, brown hair. Oh, yeah, and possessed of enhanced speed, strength, and agility.”
Roy chewed silently on what smelled like a piece of Nicorette gum.
“Any help you can give us would be super nice…”
“Look, kid,” Roy said, glaring at the little twerp in front of him. “I got no idea what you’re gabbin’ about.”
Andrew pushed off of the counter. “Um, really? Cuz it seems like you’d remember this customer. With the enhanced speed, strength, and –“
“I heard it, and I don’t got nobody comin’ in here like that.” Roy popped his gum. “Maybe she gets her stuff mail order.”
“Oh, that’s a – “
“Hold up, yo.” Gunn pushed himself back into view, a few older issues of “Spawn” piled in his lap. “Andrew told you the person’s height, hair color, and a few extra distinguishing characteristics. Didn’t say nothin’ about it bein’ a girl. Now, statistically, males frequent comic shops like this in much higher numbers than women. Plus, you got all these posters of chicks wearin’ nothin’ but a strap of spandex, so somethin’ tells me you ain’t exactly ridin’ the gender equality bus.” He stopped in front of the counter. “It just so happens that this patron we lookin’ for *is* a girl. How do you suppose you knew that, if you didn’t even know who it was we were talkin’ about?”
Andrew squinted his eyes rather un-menacingly at the man. “Indeed, how did you know, you unmitigated villain!”
“You ain’t getting nothin’ from me.”
Gunn smirked. “We’ll see about that.” He drove forward, crashing his extended leg into the glass display case. Wheeling back, he looked at the blond Watcher. “Andrew? You wanna pick the broken glass offa that copy of 'Avengers #16' and hand it to me?”
Andrew numbly did as he was told.
Gunn held up the aged comic book and gave the cover a looking over. “Now ain’t that pretty? Captain America callin’ the troops together. Me? I prefer the Ultimates. They got Nick Fury as a brother. Gotta love that. Andrew, you got some matches on you?”
“If you’re going to destroy that classic piece of Americana, then no.”
Gunn grabbed the hem of Andrew’s tweed jacket and yanked the boy down. He reached inside the inner pocket and took out a book of matches. “Thought I smelled that nasty-ass pipe,” he said, letting go. He turned back to Roy. “Matches. Fire. Classic comic book. You can do the math. Or you can talk.”
Roy shrugged. “I don’t care. Do it, and I sue your ass. I can already get you for the case.”
Gunn arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I think you care. You got this baby priced at $2000. Now, every brother who reads 'Wizard' knows that the thing ain’t worth but half a grand in mint condition. You ain’t sellin’ this. You showin’ it off. Crown jewel of your collection, probably.” He lit a match and held it near the book. “We talkin’?”
Roy’s fist clenched, but he said nothing.
“Oh, yeah. And about the suin’ thing? Don’t try it. When they talk about the man with the best defending record in the Los Angeles courts, they talkin’ ‘bout yours truly. I can probably start somethin’ in San Diego, too, if you wanna go.” He slowly waved the match in front of the comic. “We. Talkin’?”
---
“JAIME JULIO MONTERO! Get your _calabazo_ down here, now!” Ms. Montero screamed from the behind the screen door. She turned to Willow. “What is it that he’s done that brings a student teacher to our doorway?”
“Uh, we’re not sure, honestly,” answered the redhead.
Jaime appeared sheepishly at the door. He was of slight build and very fidgety.
Ms. Montero put her hands on her hips and gripped tightly. “Now, what kind of trouble have you been getting into? We have a teacher at our door, Jaime.”
Willow looked the boy straight in the eyes. “We need to talk about Liz.”
He nodded.
“You mind if we borrow him for a few hours, Ms. Montero?”
“Not at all.” Ms. Montero pushed her son outside. “Give him whatever punishment you think is fit. I will stand behind you 110%.”
Buffy looked back at Willow and Jaime as they climbed in the car. “I just got off the phone with Gunn. Comic shop guy turned out to be very informational, like 'I'm involved, bwahaha, I'm so evil' informational. He had a back room filled with hand-to-hand training manuals and bad kung-fu movies. But most importantly? A costume pattern for The Nocturne."
Willow turned to Jaime. “Care to fill in the blanks here?”
Jaime looked like he might cry, but after a few moments, he spoke. “Lakeside… gets a lot of crime. Especially from kids. Don’t know why. Last May, when Liz announced to Roy and I that she’d developed superhuman powers… we thought we had something.”
“Hold on,” Buffy said. “Who’s Roy?”
“Roy owns the comic shop. He was Special Ops in Vietnam. We were blown away by the news. Real superheroes walk in the world. I wanted to put her in really bright spandex, give the city a vision of hope, like Supergirl or Fairchild. But Ray convinced her that striking fear was better. He started training her to become this… vigilante, used this really awful character as a base. Cuz I’m really good with putting things together, they wanted me in as their personal Q. So with him training and me building the tech… we thought we would be unstoppable.”
“But she’s had the powers for over a year,” Willow said. “How come the casualties of her war on crime just now started piling up?”
“Didn’t want her out in the field before she felt she was ready. Roy had me hack the school’s network, find out who the troublemakers were. Then she started going after ‘em. Roy’s training had some really weird effect on her, though. She puts that mask on anymore, and Liz just disappears. She’s completely The Nocturne. It scares me.” He bit his lip. “Are you guys gonna hurt her?”
Buffy reached back and patted Jaime’s knee. “No. We’re going to try to help her. We know what’s happened, what she’s become.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, she has a… destiny. And now I really wish Dawn was here.”
“Why?” Willow asked.
“Because I explained this the last time. It’s her turn to give the Slayer speech.”
“Slayer speech?” Jaime pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s a Slayer?”
Buffy sighed. “See what I mean? Look, Jaime… We’ll explain it later. Right now, we need to find Liz before she hurts anybody else.”
“The school. She might still be there. There’s a storage room that they don’t use. It’s like our Batcave. She’d be there if she’s not at home or prowling the streets.”
Buffy looked out of the front window of the car, determination on her face. “The school it is, then.”
---
Roy tested the rope that held him to the folding chair in the back room. “Little tight there, kid.”
”Hey, I’ll make it as tight as I want, Mr. I-Enjoy-Corrupting-Youth-Guy.”
“Boy’s got a point, Roy,” Gunn said.
“What the hell do you know? Some nutcase didn’t break into your house as a kid, take your parents away.”
“Actually,” Gunn said, “they did.”
“So you become some pansy-ass lawyer? I actually tried to do something about it. Thought I’d grow up and show them what justice was.” Andrew’s phone rang, but Roy ignored it. “Maybe I liked comics a little too much, but I trained to be the best in everything. I got a black belt in karate, star athlete in high school. But the murdering asshole I was after got hauled to jail on a Murder Two charge, unrelated, and instead of a cape, Uncle Sam handed me camos. Vietnam, boys.”
“Yeah,” Gunn said. “Spare us the ‘Born on the Fourth of Platoon’ crap before I punch you in the nuts a second time.”
Roy leaned forward as much as his restraints would let him. “Listen, pal. This is a dirty world. There’s scum and there’s punks. But that’s why there’s guys like me. Guys willin’ to do what it takes to clean it up. So, yeah. When the opportunity came around to make a real difference, I took it. You gonna blame me for tryin’ to make this town a better place?”
Gunn shook his head. “No. I’m gonna blame you for makin’ a teenage girl somethin’ she didn’t need to be.”
“But she wanted to. She only needed a little nudging.”
“What kind of nudgin’ was that?”
“A few suggestions here and there, really puts her inside the mind of The Nocturne. She puts that mask on, and everything kicks in.”
“You brainwashed her?”
“Ain’t any worse than what the government’s been doin’ for years.”
The bound Roy toppled to the ground as Gunn rammed his chair into him. “Old man sendin’ a teenage girl to be his hand on Earth cuz he’s too impotent to do it himself? You make me sick.”
Andrew shifted uncomfortably. “Are we done?”
Gunn wheeled away from Roy. “Yeah. We done.”
“Good,” Andrew said, “Because Buffy just called, and she was wondering if we’d very much like to meet her at El Capitan and help her find Liz.”
Gunn pushed himself out of the back room. “Might as well. He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Andrew followed Gunn, but stuck his head back in the room briefly. “Uh, hi, Roy. I was wondering if… I mean, I know I tied you up and everything, but if I just picked up the latest issue of ‘Amazing Spider-Man’ and left the money on your counter or, really, what’s left of your counter… would that be okay?”
Roy just glared at him.
“Okay. I’ll do that, then.” Andrew disappeared into the store.
Roy waited for the jingle of the bell above the shop’s door to ring, and then a little longer just to make sure they were really gone. It took a little doing, but he managed to get his hands around the hilt of the knife he always had tucked in his jeans. He pulled it out and started sawing away at his bonds.
---
Xander watched the battered van with the logo for All’s Fare cab service drive off. “I thought you were going to tell the guy to wait.”
Andrew stuck his hands in his pockets. “I did. I paid him, and then he looked at me, and I looked back. And then he looked at me, and I was like, 'What?' and he peeled away.”
"Did you tip him?" Xander asked.
"No. Think I should've?"
“Could be,” Buffy said. She turned to the assembled group. "Okay, we’re all here. Good. We have to make sure we find Liz and talk to her. She might look like a crazy in a costume, but she's just a scared and confused girl. Use violence only if completely necessary. Xander, Andrew – I want you guys watching the perimeter. Gunn, you’re guarding the exit closest to the storage room.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna be real useful. I’ll just run her over if she gets by me.”
“If she gets by you, call me,” Buffy said. “Willow, Jaime? You’re with me. We’re going in.” She turned towards the doors.
“Buffy?”
“Yeah, Gunn?”
“Careful in there. Roy’s got some kinda Manchurian Candidate mojo on the girl. Somethin’ to do with the mask.”
Buffy nodded. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
---
The storage room was empty. Buffy kicked a box of dusty encyclopedias. “Dammit.”
Jaime motioned her to be quiet. “She’s been here. I can feel it.”
“You can sense her?” Willow asked.
Jaime nodded. “Just when she’s in costume and really close. I get the creeps.” He looked around. “Can’t feel her now.”
Willow’s face lit up. “Buffy! I know a local area Slayer detection spell. I worked on it while I was in South America with this really cool local mystic.”
“No. We don’t need magick, Wil.”
“Okay. How about, gonna do it anyway, so you might as well agree, Miss Slayer-pants?”
Buffy threw up her hands in acquiescence. “Whatever. Just be quiet about it.”
They moved slowly down the darkened hallway. Willow mumbled a mix of Spanish and Latin to herself. Buffy peered down every corridor they came to.
Jaime tried not to have a nervous breakdown. He was hunting his best friend. It just seemed kind of wrong.
Willow’s eyes flashed blue briefly. “Done. Now, you kinda have to stay close to me, because all I’m doing is detecting Slayerness. There’s no labels like ‘Buffy-Slayer’ or ‘Liz-Slayer,’ just, you know, ‘a Slayer’ all around.”
Buffy opened a utility closet and peered in. “Nothing.” She came back. “Sorry, Wil. Distracted. Are you detecting her?”
Willow concentrated. “Nope. Just the Slayerness that’s right here. Which is you.” She breathed in. “Wait. Hold on… she’s behind us. Like, right behind us. Running away.”
Buffy and Willow turned around to an empty hallway. No Liz. Worst of all – no Jaime.
---
The Nocturne, in full costume, shoved Jaime against a locker. “Are you handing me over to the enemy?” her distorted voice crackled. “Have you turned against me, Jaime? Traitors earn nothing but vengeance!”
Sweat poured down Jaime’s face. “You don’t understand. Buffy… Buffy’s trying to help you, Liz.”
“DON’T CALL ME LIZ,” the costumed avenger raged. “I am THE NOCTURNE!” She grabbed Jaime by his t-shirt and hoisted him into the air.
“Actually, I think you’re seriously deluded,” Buffy said, grabbing The Nocturne’s arm. “But then, I only have a little experience analyzing teens.”
The vigilante twisted away and kicked Buffy in the midsection, sending her flying to the ground. Then, she pulled a long staff out from a holder strapped to her back. “Do you really believe you can survive my wrath?” She twirled the weapon around.
Buffy picked herself up and brushed the dust from her clothes. “Listen, I’m not here to hurt you. Just take off the mask and we can talk...” The Nocturne leapt at her, the staff pointed right at Buffy’s throat. "Or, you know, not." The experienced Slayer dodged the attack, and ducked the swipe immediately following it. Spotting the janitor’s cart a few yards in front of her, she ran and grabbed a mop.
The two combatants circled one another, each with weapon ready. The Nocturne advanced with a few stealthy blows, but Buffy blocked every single one. Then there was a chaotic chorus of click-clacking sounds as the two thrust and parried with incredible speed. Finally, The Nocturne cracked Buffy’s less-sturdy staff in two.
Buffy backed up a few paces. “Okay, Liz, Nocturne, whatever. You have to listen to me, you’re – “
“Going to wreak my vengeance.”
“Yeah, that ‘vengeance’ line? Getting really old, hon.”
“Your jokes can’t save you,” The Nocturne said, clicking a button in the middle of her staff. A curved blade popped out of each end. “Nothing can.” She spun the weapon at Buffy, the cutting apparatus whirring close to the Slayer's skin. One of the revolutions came close enough to slice into Buffy's blouse.
“Thicken!” Willow yelled.
The air around The Nocturne seemed to congeal, and her oncoming attack on Buffy suddenly seemed incredibly difficult to even initiate.
“I coulda taken her,” Buffy said.
“Yeah, ribbon Buffy woulda been so much more effective,” Willow replied.
“Can she hear me?”
“Yeah. It’s not like we’re moving faster or anything. It’s just like bein’ stuck in a pool full of Jell-O that got kinda hard.”
Buffy nodded. “Liz. My name is Buffy Summers. I'm not your enemy. This has been one big miscommunication. You’re not a demon or a vigilante. You’re a girl, a girl with amazing abilities. I know what those are. I have them myself. There’s a destiny attached to those powers, Liz. An awesome responsibility. I need you to take off the mask, so we can talk, person-to-person. Willow’s going to take the spell off now, okay?” She glanced at Willow, who did as promised.
The Nocturne doubled over, struggling to catch her breath. She looked at Buffy, then reached up and peeled off the mask. Behind the disguise was a scared high school girl. “I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing.”
“It’s okay,” Willow cooed. “We know what’s going on.”
“Not entirely,” came Gunn’s voice behind them.
Roy had a pistol pointed at the handicapped man’s head. “You two, hands up. Move away from Liz. Liz, these freaks got some sort of mind whammy goin’ on here. They’re lying to you.”
“Dude, you the only one whose –“
Roy cocked the gun. “Shut up. Don’t think I don’t remember you. Took a little while, cuz you had hair back then, and two good legs. But I seen you before, asshole. You were at the parole hearing last year. You were that lawyer who put the punk who murdered my parents back on the streets.”
Gunn tried to think. “I don’t think so. I only did the one parole case, and – oh. That guy. Hell, I did that one pro bono. Did you see his prison record? Good behavior, straight through. Found religion. Got an education. Wrote a damn magazine editorial on the price of violence. The man repented. He deserved forgiveness.”
“SHUT UP!” Roy punched Gunn, knocking him out. “None of these bastards deserve anything but what my girl can give ‘em. C’mon, Liz. Put the mask on and get over here.”
Liz looked at Roy, her eyes wide. She looked at Buffy, who was shaking her head subtly and mouthing, “Don’t.” She took a look at the Nocturne mask, with the little “N” emblem on the forehead. She pulled it on.
“Liz, NO!” Buffy yelled.
“Quiet,” the garbled voice of The Nocturne said. She walked over to Roy. “Let’s finish this.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s.” He aimed the pistol at Jaime. “Traitors go first.”
The Nocturne nodded, and then knocked the gun out of Roy’s hand.
“What the--?”
She punched him in the face. Left, right, left, until he fell down. She kicked him until Buffy pulled her away. The Nocturne took off her mask, and Liz fell to the ground, crying. She looked up at Jaime, but Jaime looked away.
Buffy knelt beside her and hugged her. “I know this hurts, but I have something you’re going to want to hear. It’s terrible, but it’s wonderful – and I think you’ll find it’s pretty much like being a superhero.” She took a deep breath. “Into this generation, a thousand Slayers were born…”
---
Xander shoveled in another mouthful of Moo Goo Gai Pan. “Mm. Fnk Gd fo elnit Chnz.”
Buffy laughed. “What?”
He swallowed. “Thank God for all-night Chinese. I was starving.”
“Me too,” Dawn said. “I totally didn’t eat anything all day.”
Willow scooped out some extra rice onto her plate. “And they delivered right to the apartment. Very keen.”
Xander waved his fork in the air, “So, was I the only one who felt dumb when Gunn’s wheelchair fit right into the trunk of the rental car?”
Buffy shrugged. “Didn’t matter. No way we could’ve found out any sooner.”
“True. Still, it was a good thing. Didn’t want to have to explain the unconsciousness to a cabbie.”
Dawn gave up trying to track down a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. “Y’think it was okay, leaving Andrew with him until he woke up? I mean, Gunn might kill him or something.”
“Gunn’s fine,” Buffy said. “He just needs some time to adjust to the change. Besides, Andrew couldn't shut up about the buddy cop bonding those two got in the comic shop.”
“Okay,” Dawn said. “But what about Liz? How is she dealing with the superhuman meltdown?”
“She'll be fine,” Willow said. “Andrew talked to the Council. They’re sending a Watcher over, Express Delivery. Said they might even take over the comic book shop as the front of operations.”
“Plus, she’s got Jaime supporting her,” Buffy chimed in.
“You think so?” Xander asked. “I mean, from what you told me, they’re in pretty rough waters right now.”
“Which one of us hasn’t turned on the others?” Buffy shrugged. “I mean, I tried to kill you all in my basement.”
Willow nodded. “And I… did that thing. With the world ending.”
Xander grinned. “And I… don’t remember.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “The hyena incident? Don’t play coy, Mr. Harris. I figured it out on my own. You remember everything.”
“I don’t. Seriously. You gotta believe me.”
Buffy toyed with her noodles. “Fine. Live in denial land. In any case, I’ve forgiven you.”
“That’s great! For the thing I really don’t remember.”
Dawn hit Xander with a couch pillow. “You big lout! You remember that?”
“What?”
---
Gunn’s head pounded. Again. He really hated this unconsciousness thing. Andrew was sitting across the room from him on his bed.
“Hey, sleepy head. Buffy and everybody wanted me to make sure you were doing okay before I left.”
“I’m okay.”
“Excellent,” Andrew grinned. “Partner,” he added.
Gunn gave him an incredulous look.
“We were like, the Dynamic Duo in there, or Murtaugh and Riggs, except it’s the black guy who’s crazy and possibly suicidal and the white guy who’s – “
“Shut up.”
“What? I was just recalling our incredible adventure together,” Andrew pressed on. “’Gunn and Wells’… Has a ring to it, y’know? They should run it on the WB on Sundays.”
“The only thing runnin’ should be you. Get out of my room.”
“But, but – “
“You wanna talk about my involvement tonight? How about how damn useless I was? Gunn’s the stationary guard – he’s too slow to do the perimeter. Gunn gets captured by the psycho ‘Nam vet. Gunn gets knocked out. Man, a year ago, none of that crap woulda gone down. I woulda had it handled. Don’t come to me about whatever lamebrain magic odyssey you got cooked up in that bad hairdo of yours. I don’t want none of it.”
“But – ”
“I said, get out. Don’t make me do somethin’ you’ll regret.”
Andrew left, and Gunn hung his head down. If anybody was there to listen closely, they would have heard the tiniest sobs escaping his lips.
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