I do not own the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No infringement is intended. I respectfully request that you not use the characters of Eric, Friedrich, The Dragon, Max, Bob, Blake, or Mortain as they are my creative property.
Part One
A week had passed since she had met the young man and his dog in the park. They had been out three times since then and tonight would be their fourth date. She couldn't believe how quickly they had connected or how much time they had been spending together. Giles had obviously been somewhat unpleased by the developing situation, but for some reason he was being tightlipped about his feelings. She hated to think that he was pitying her about Angel but she couldn't help but be happy that for once, she seemed to be in a semi-normal relationship. Or at least it was shaping up into a relationship.
'This is only the fourth date after all,' she cautioned herself. 'He probably doesn't think it's anything serious. I mean he's just passing time until the next college semester starts, right?'
She glanced up at the clock on her wall and felt a small thrill go through her. He would be there anytime now. Hopefully, she walked over to her window and looked out at the street, expecting to see him pulling up, but the early evening street was quiet and empty.
'Why am I getting so worked up over this guy? We've just met. And I never used to get all dolled up for Angel's benefit.' The thought of her former vampiric lover forced her eyes uncontrolably to the Claddagh ring on her finger. A deep pit opened in her stomach and her heart felt leaden in her chest.
'Well, I just went almost a whole day without thinking of him,' she thought to herself. 'How did that happen? Oh, dammit, Angel! Why did it have to turn out like this? It should have been us together like this. I should be feeling this happy because of you. I should be _dreaming_ of you, not having nightmares.'
"Oh, Angel," she whispered as she stared out at the pink glow of the evening sky. Buffy moved to take the ring off, for perhaps the fiftieth time since she had lost him. But again, as she felt the ring tug at her skin, she stopped. She could feel the tears beginning to form around her eyes but she quickly brushed them away.
"I'm not going to think about this tonight."
She turned away from the window and walked briskly towards the door, as if she could move fast enough to leave the pain behind. She grabbed her purse from her desk, pausing only to toss in an extra stake.
As Buffy walked down the stairs, she could hear her mother washing dishes in the kitchen. She reached the foot of the stairs and went to the front door to peer outside.
"No, honey. He's not here yet," Buffy heard her mother call from the kitchen. Guiltily she turned around to find her mother looking at her from the kitchen doorway with a dish towel thrown over her shoulder.
"Wow, honey. I gotta say, he's in for a surprise. I don't think I've ever seen you get so dressed up for a date before. In fact, now that I think of it, I've never seen you get dressed up for a date." Her mom left her standing at the doorway as she went back to her dishes.
"I'm not dressed up! This is how I normally look," as Buffy followed her mother back to the kitchen. "Do you really think he's going to notice?"
"Honey, I thought the whole point was to make him notice?"
"Yeah, but do you think he'll notice all the time I put into looking good? I mean, I don't want him to think- well, I don't know what I want him to think."
"Buffy, he's a man. Men never notice how much effort goes into looking good. He'll say you look great and he won't even think about how you got that way. So where're you two going tonight anyway?"
"You know, I didn't think you would have been cool with this whole 'me dating an older man' thing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like that you like him. It's just that I'm surprised is all." Her mother paused a moment from her rinsing and looked back at her daughter.
"To be perfectly honest, I was all set not to like him, when you first told me about him. I know he's not even a year out of highschool, but... well, after... I think you know why I wasn't really hot on the idea." Buffy had the common sense to stare at her toes and look contrite when her mother looked over at her.
"But after I met him," her mother continued. "He seemed like such a nice guy. So different from any of your other friends. He's obviously smart, and funny, and most of all, he's not some brooding loner with emotional problems. Plus he's got such a great dog. Anybody with a dog that nice has to be a good guy. But then, I'm not much of an expert on nice guys either." It was Joyce's turn to stare down into the dish water and look contrite. "Plus, he's got prospects. I mean, he's going to UCLA, he's got a car. Not that any of that matters," she hastily assured her daughter. "I'm just saying that it's nice that you're not dating a- well a-"
"Loser?" Buffy supplied. Her mother laughed shakily.
"You know what I mean. Besides, it's not like you guys are getting serious." She looked over at her daughter sternly. "You're not getting _serious_ are you?"
"Mom?! Of course not!"
"Okay, okay! Don't get all mad at me. I'm just looking out for you, is all. Besides, I didn't really think so, it's just that, college boy, seventeen year old girl. A mother worries, that's all."
"Well, cease your worrying. We've only-" Buffy stopped suddenly as she realized who she was talking to. "We've just- well we've only kissed. And when I first kissed him he didn't get all gropy so that's a pretty good sign."
"You kissed him?" her mother asked with an arched eyebrow.
Buffy stammered and figdeted with her hands. She understood she had just shared a bit too much.
"It was one of those moments and he was being kind of shy so I-" Her mother let her blush furiously for a few moments before looking over and smiling over at her.
"It's okay, honey. I trust you. I-" Her mother looked as she were going to say something else but at the last second bit it back. "I trust you." She looked around the room as the silent tension slowly faded. "Say shouldn't Eric have been here by now?" she asked to change the subject.
Her words were almost prophetic as the doorbell rang and Buffy raced out of the kitchen to answer it. She stopped at the door and collected herself, running through a calming exercise that Giles had taught her. When her heartbeat had slowed down and she had made her date wait a decent amount of time, she opened the door.
* * *
"Hey, Bob! Open the door! The food's gettin' cold!" Blake called through the door of the shabby motel room. "Bob, c'mon! I forgot my key!" Blake resituated his load of bags filled with burgers and fries almost dropping several of them. "I swear Bob, we gotta get you on a diet," he muttered as he heard the locks turn and the door opened.
"Grrrr." A voice growled from the shadowy room.
Blake was exasperated. "Yes I got your chocolate shakes too. Now move, this stuff is heavy and its burning my hands." A dark looming shape moved in the blackness and he stepped into the room finding the dingy, trash laden table with a dusty lamp hanging from the ceiling giving off a meager light. He pushed some old wrappers and empty chinese food boxes off onto the floor to make room for the numerous bags of food. After he had set them down, he began to go through the bags until he found a particular burger and pulled out a box of fries as well.
"Grrr! Grrr!"
"Hey! Some of this stuff is for me too! You can have the rest. I mean its not like you have to worry about me eating all ten of your Big Macs. Now stop whining and eat up. You need to get your strength back."
"Grrr." Bob, the hulking Gargoyle stepped into the dim circle of light around the table a reached for his food. Blake, his human, gun-toting partner, was still shocked by the change his friend had undergone. Where once the giant behemoth had been made of rough seamless stone, millions of tiny cracks now spread throughout his upper body, except for his left arm. That was the arm the Slayer had broken off whole in their encounter with her in the park last week. The rest of his friend had remained intact until the mysterious stranger with the sword had appeared and cut Bob in half, shattering his upper body as it toppled on to the concrete sidewalk.
Blake had only narrowly escaped the scene after he witnessed his long time partner go down. He had given the Slayer and her armored friend the slip using his almost mystical skills of stealth and evasion to escape detection. After the two had departed, the knight disappearing into thin air and the Slayer walking off in a huff, Blake had spent the next several hours picking up the pieces of his shattered friend and his one intact arm and lower body, and loading them into their van. After finding a store that was open twenty-four hours that sold enough super-glue to make a difference, he had painfully reconstructed the stone creature. Blake knew that he would have eventually reformed on his own; Bob had taken worse damage than this and healed. But by putting the pieces of his broken friend back together, he could speed up the healing process tremendously. It would only be a matter of days now until Bob was once more his old self
again, all the cracks gone to be replaced with smooth stone.
Blake's own wounds were rapidly healing as well. His right hand still wore a bandage where the armored knight had blasted his gun from his hand. And he still felt giddy whenever he got up to quick thanks to the slight concussion the Slayer had given him when she had hit him with Bob's severed stone arm.
"Grrr?" his partner growled at him in between scarfing down Big Macs and fries. The remains of one chocolate shake, already consumed was casually tossed to the floor at his feet and another one was in his hands.
"No, not tonight," Blake told him. "We're not ready yet to give her or her friend a rematch." Blake himself yearned to pay the two of them back, but more importantly, to kill the Slayer so that he and Bob
would be free once and for all of the sorcerous compulsion that their master had placed on them, to kill the one who had killed him. Not that they were entirely certain that the Slayer was the one, but it
seemed logical. Still, they wouldn't know for certain until they had killed her, and if the voice in their heads compelling them to avenge the sorcerer's death finally stopped, then they would know that they had succeeded. If it continued, then they could move down the line and begin executing her friends who might have been with her that night she had gone to his mansion.
"Grrr?"
"When we're ready and not a moment before. The Slayer's not going anywhere. This time we're going to do this the safe way. I've already given it some thought. We'll set up outside of her school, and I'll snipe her off from a distance with my rifle. Or at least I'll try."
"Yes. You will try and you will fail," a deep and menacing voice came from the shadows near the door. Bob turned, leaping from his chair and bearing his claws to rip the intruder apart. But Blake was faster. Even with his off hand he was still an expert shot and one of the fastest draws of his day. In a split second, his silenced pistol was in his hand and spitting bullets into the darkened corner that the voice had originated from.
In the stillness that followed his barrage of bullets, a hooded humanoid shape stepped out of the shadows. Bob growled low in his throat and moved to attack the intruder while Blake stared in awe. He had been certain of his aim and could not believe that his target could stand there unscathed as he was. The floor creaked under Bob's weight as he charged but the hooded figure only raised one hand and spoke a simple command.
"Stop," he whispered to the charging behemoth, and at his words, Bob stopped in mid spring, his limbs frozen and all his forward momentum suddenly arrested. He stood as still as a statue, his stone facade only serving to enhance the appearance.
"What have you done to him?!" Blake demanded of the intruder even as he was reloading his pistol. The hooded figure ignored the gunman as he approached the unmoving gargoyle. He ran his hands over the rough stone, tracing some of the cracks with his finger.
"I sense Friedrich's word on this one. Your friend is lucky to have survived the encounter," he spoke to Blake. The intruder looked over at him as he finished reloading and brought the weapon up. "Please, there is absolutely no reason for you to fire upon-"
Blake fired once more, emptying the weapon in a matter of seconds, all it's bullets flying sure and true at their intended target. There was no doubt of his missing this time. But each bullet seemed only to pass through the hooded figure as if he did not exist. The door behind him was perforated now with the numerous bullets holes, letting light from the hallway in.
"Really. Are you quite through now, Mr. Connelly?" the intruder
asked him. "I am not actually here right now, this is only a projection of myself, so there are no weapons at your disposal that could harm me." Blake was reloading his gun again.
"How do you know my name?" Blake demanded suddenly as he realized what the man had called him. "Nobody knows my name! Nobody left alive anyway. Who are you?! What have you done to my partner?"
"Please, please. Relax Mr. Connelly. I am here to help you, if only you would be so kind as to help me. Your friend will be freed when we have successfully concluded our business. My name is Mortain, and I have come to trade my services for your own. You and your partner are currently under the compulsion placed upon you by your former master, the sorcerer who persished here two weeks ago at the hands of the Slayer and her friends. You will never be your own person until such time as you have avenged his death by destroying those responsible, am I correct?"
"Yeah," Blake nodded uncertainly. "Yeah, something like that. What do you care about it?"
"Your master was in my employ. He was doing my business here when he was killed. I had sent him here to attempt the summoning of an Old One. I did not truly expect him to succeed, but I knew that his actions, influenced by me, would endanger the Slayer, possibly even kill her. But even that was not my true intention, however much I would like to see her dead. True, her death would be a major blow against the forces of destiny, radically upsetting the balance of power if she were to die before her appointed time, but I have much bigger concerns. Your master was my stalking horse. I was using him to flush out my old opponent, a man by the name of Friedrich, who some call 'the Dragon.' I can see from his handiwork that you have already met him."
"You mean that flying armored guy with the sword who ambushed us in the park?" Blake asked.
"The very same."
"Yeah, we met him. Now what does any of this have to do with us?"
"Simple. I will lift the compulsion you are under if you agree to kill to kill this man for me."
"Sorry, but I don't think so. We have no desire to tangle with that guy again if we can help it. We'll take our chances with the Slayer if you don't mind."
"I am sorry, but you will never succeed in killing her. There is no line fate in which you kill the Slayer. It just is not your destiny, no matter how much I tweak and influence it. In fact, she is not even the one who killed your mage. One of her friends did. And should you kill one of them, she would hunt you down and kill you, that much is certain. There would be little I could do to alter that."
"You're saying that if we go after the Slayer, we'll die? That it's our destiny or something?"
"Something like that. But don't feel ashamed. You share the same destiny as just about every other enemy that crosses her path. But it does not have to end like that. There are other paths open to you, paths wherein the future is unwritten, where you can make you own destiny."
"Kill this 'Dragon' for you, huh?"
"Precisely."
Blake sat down as he contemplated what this hooded man who called himself Mortain had told him.
"I gotta say I'm not real hot on going toe to toe with that guy again. I mean, he beat Bob and I once, and I'm not sure he wouldn't do it again. I mean the guy shoots energy bolts out of his hands, he flies, and he's got a wicked sword that cuts through stone like it was butter, hence Bob over there."
"But you would not have to fight him again in that form. Friedrich, my nemesis, has not awakened completely yet. He can only manifest that form when his own body is asleep, and his subconscious is allowed to come to the fore. While he is awake, he is just a normal human being, powerless and weak, except for the dog which protects him."
"We can handle a dog."
"Do not discount the canine. It is no ordinary dog. It has served him faithfully for more than six hundred years through dozens of lifetimes. It is not a foe to be taken lightly. But Friedrich's weakness will not last long. It has taken me years to find him but I am nearly too late. Soon he will reawaken completely and he will remember everything. Right now he is vulnerable and now is the time to strike!"
"If he's so vulnerable, why don't you kill him yourself?"
"Friedrich and I have faced each other numerous times throughout the centuries. We each have a keen sense of the other. Were I to come within a hundred miles of him, I fear that he would force himself to awaken early, thereby destroying any advantage I might have possesed over him. I can not face him directly without awakening the power within him. Therefore I seek another to do my bidding, hopefully eliminating him for another twenty years or more, until he could be reborn again and reach maturity. Twenty years is all I need in order to bring my plans to fruition. If I can defeat him now before he is ready, than I will have won the battle. Do you understand?"
"Not a bit," Blake answered plainly lost. "But I did get the part about you wanting us to kill some guy who isn't going to be much of a problem in return for letting us off the hook with this whole Slayer business. I'm pretty cool with your proposal, though I can't speak for Bob."
Mortain gestured at Bob's still immobile form.
"Speak."
"Grrrr," came Bob's assenting growl.
"Well then, we're set," Blake told him. "Where do we find this guy anyway? What does he look like?"
From the folds of his robe, Mortain drew forth a tattered picture and set it upon the table. As he drew his hand away from it, it glowed and crackled then lay still.
"I have sent you this photograph to recognize him by. He always looks the same in every life so you should have no trouble."
Blake picked up the picture carefully then held it up to the light to inspect it. It was in black and white, old and worn. The young man in the picture stood with a german shepherd at his leg. His haircut was a kind of shaggy seventies style and they posed in front of an old Chevy.
"He sometimes goes by the name of Friedrich, Frederick, or more lately, Eric. I do not know his exact whereabouts but I am almost certain he is here in Sunnydale. Stick close to the Slayer and you will encounter him eventually. He will certainly be drawn to her. Like calls to like after all. You must move swiftly though. He will awaken soon to his old memories and you must kill him before that can happen. Tonight if at all possible."
"Bob and I aren't in much condition right now to be doing anything. It's gonna have to wait a little while until we heal."
"Don't worry about that." Mortain motioned at Bob and miraculously his cracks began so disappear and the missing chips began to fill in. Bob was freed of the constraining spell and he turned to regard his partner. Mortain then waved a hand in Blake's direction and the bandage around his right hand fell off to reveal that his burned hand had been completely healed.
"Wow! If you weren't trying to take over the world or whatever it is you're planning, you could make a killing as a doctor."
"I assure you, taking over the world is not my intention. Now, I release you from your sorcerer's compulsion. Go out and find this man. I will be watching your progress from afar. If you do as I have bidden, we shall never have to cross paths again. Fail me or abandon the job, and I will destroy you just as easily as I have healed you."
With that, Mortain slowly dissolved into whisps of shadow and then disappeared altogether leaving Bob and Blake alone in the dimly lit room.
"Well Bob, let's hurry up and finish eating. We've got a hero to kill."
* * *
Eric anxiously checked himself in his mirror once again as Max sat dejectedly on his bed and stared at him whining. Eric looked over at his canine companion sternly as he straightened his tie for the umpteenth time that night.
"Don't give me that look. We're going out to a movie. You can't come with us tonight, old buddy." Eric walked over to the bed and gave his german shepherd a reassuring neck ruffle. "I love you but I can't take you with me everywhere. Besides, this is kind of a special night. You understand, don't you?" Max sighed and lay his head down on the bed looking up at his master with liquid brown eyes.
"You're doing it again, Max. C'mon! Can't you be supportive? I meet this great girl I like who likes me too, well hopefully she likes me, and all you can think of is that I'm leaving you alone for one night. One night, Max! How often do I go out without you, huh? How often?" He paused as if expecting an answer from his depressed hound. "That's right, almost never! Now c'mon. Quit ruining my night and help me out. How do you think I look? Be honest now. I trust your opinion." Max slowly rose his head up off the mattress and looked his master over. After a quick perusal he brought up his right paw. "You think the tie's too much? Yeah, you're right. She's not a girl who's gonna be impressed by some guy wearing a tie." Eric unknotted the tie around his neck and slipped it off then turned back to present himself again. "Everything else okay? Low key sport coat and slacks. Nice shirt, dress shoes. Damn, been awhile since I've done this. Clean shaven with a light dosing of aftershave. Hair combed and everything. Okay. Okay... Okay. I'm cool." He looked over at Max who was still staring at him intently. "I'm fine. I'm cool," he reassured him nervously.
For a moment Eric stopped and looked around his room. At first he was merely checking to be certain that there was nothing he had forgotten, but as his eyes glanced over the contents of the room he was suddenly hit with a feeling of loneliness melancholy. It was nearly the same as it had been when he and his parents had left for Christmas vacation to visit his grandparents. The trip from which his parents had never returned. He had changed it only a little since returning a week ago. A computer sat on his desk and a portable stereo system took up most of his dresser top, but for the most part it was still the bedroom of a twelve year old boy.
'Mom should be here now, fussing over me and dad should be giving me some useless piece of advice while he hands over the car keys. Even
grandpa or grandma. I shouldn't be eighteen and alone. Why did everyone leave me?' He sat down in his chair and put his face in his hands. 'Maybe coming back here wasn't such a great idea after all. Maybe I should just go back to school or something, try and finish out the year. I've gotta do something other than cleaning out this old house and dating some girl who's still in high school.' He raised his head and leaned back in his chair. 'No, that's not fair. She's more than just some girl in high school. Buffy is something special and I'm lucky to be with her. I don't know what I'd be doing right now if I didn't have her in my life. God! What am I thinking?! We've only known eachother for a week. Yet I still can't deny the connection we've made, the closeness that I feel to her. It's almost as if she were a kindred spirit or something. Though what I have in common with a seventeen year old girl named Buffy, who for some reason carries wooden stakes around with her while wandering the park late at night, I can't fathom.' Eric smiled at his first memory of her standing in the darkened park wearing a mini-skirt while trying to hide the wooden implement she had been using for something or other. Max jumped down from Eric's bed and padded over to him putting his cold wet nose into his master's hand.
"I'm okay buddy. I know I'm not alone as long as I've got you." He reached down and hugged the german shepherd close to him. When he looked down at his shirt and coat he suddenly cursed loudly and repeatedly.
"Arrrggg! Got dog hairs all over my jacket! Arrrggg! It's not your fault Max. You can't help shedding. But... arrrggg!" Eric raced around the room looking for the lint brush he had set down after cleaning his coat earlier. "I've got to get going in a few minutes and I can't find the stupid thing! Where did I set it down at? Arrggg!" Max turned from his master and padded into the bathroom. He nudged the lint brush off the counter until it landed on the floor. He picked it up in his teeth and walked back into Eric's room where he was still searching for the item intensely. Max dropped the lint brush onto the floor and barked to get Eric's attention.
"Max, I don't have time for-you found it! You go, boy! Man, what would I ever do without you?" Eric quickly began to apply the brush to his jacket and shirt cleaning off all the stray dog hairs. When he had finished to his satisfaction he set the brush down and inspected himself once more. "Okay, I'm ready now. And it's time to go." Eric left the room and walked down the stairs to the front hall with Max behind him.
"Alright, you've got water, you've got food. Ah, entertainment!" Eric walked into the living room with Max behind him and picked up the remote control. He flicked the TV on and pressed play on the VCR. "Okay, your movie's going and so am I." He walked back into the hallway with Max still following faithfully and gathered up his keys and the bouquet of flowers he had bought a little earlier. "And I've got the tickets so I'm set. Take care, Max. Remember, no parties while I'm gone." He reached down and petted his dog one last time then walked toward the front door. Max got up on his hind legs and grabbed up Eric's forgotten wallet in his teeth. He trotted after the young man and was standing patiently behind him when Eric reached the door.
"Oh, I almost forgot my-" He looked down at his dog with the leather wallet softly held in his mouth. Eric sighed. "Thank you, Max," he said he as he wiped the small bit of drool from it. "Okay, I'm outta here. Stay, Max. I'll be back later." With that, Eric closed the door leaving Max alone in the house. Max trotted over to the front window and watched as Eric got into his car and drove off. Max then padded over to the front door and passed through it as if it did not exist. Outside, he loped down the street after his master.
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