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Vengeance of the Reaper

© Macboru

Prologue

Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
0830, Sunday

Buffy Summers stirred and blinked her eyes open. Her boyfriend was sitting up, leaned back on a pair of pillows he’d propped against the headboard. Languorously, the young woman pulled herself up to lay her head on his stomach. Mackenzie O’Byrne lifted his arm to allow her to settle against him. Gently, he began to stroke her hair.

After a while Buffy softly said “Penny?”

Mac gave a grunt.

“Grrr?” She echoed.

“I was just thinking that since you’re over the hill now, I ought to trade you in on a newer model,” he teased. Buffy had celebrated her twentieth birthday the day before.

“’*Over the hill*’!” she growled. Reaching under the covers for something vulnerable, she gave the man a hard pinch. That wasn’t easy to do – Mac was more or less built like a rock.

“Ouch!” he yelped.

“’Over the hill’?” she said again, scowling up at him.

“Yeah,” he answered. “You know. *Old*.”

Buffy wrapped her hand around something sensitive and looked daggers at her lover. The two of them stared at one another for a long moment. Mac broke first. A wide smile spread across his youthful features.

After another beat, Buffy returned his smile. The warmth between the two lovers was palpable. Releasing her grip, Buffy turned in his arms and got up on her knees. Grabbing his head with both hands, she leaned forward and kissed him softly. After a few seconds she sat back.

“So I should pack?” she teased.

Mac gazed at the naked woman kneeling in front of him. She was easily the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. “Maybe not just yet,” he seemed to decide finally. “Maybe you’ve got one or two years left in you.” Buffy rolled her eyes. She was going to look sixteen for the rest of her life and they both knew it. They also both knew that that pleased him far more than her. Buffy had an occasional vision of being carded for a drink on her two hundredth birthday.

Mac smiled at the woman he loved and pulled her close.

On Interstate 5 a dark gray sedan sped south. Early that day its driver had set out from San Francisco. The car easily wove through the Sunday morning traffic. Keeping precisely to the posted speed limit, its passage went unnoticed. There was nothing at all remarkable about the car. It had been selected by the driver – if not the late owner - for that very reason.

Driving down the highway, Polovsky saw a road sign informing him that L.A. Was a hundred and fifty miles away. The immortal grinned coldly. In a few hours he’d be there. Within a day, he’d be in Sunnydale.

Within a week - at the most - he’d take the head of Mackenzie O’Byrne.

Next to the immortal rested a San Francisco newspaper. Its headline screamed “*Third murder victim found*”.

Part 1

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
1000, Sunday

Buffy came downstairs and entered the kitchen to be greeted by the smell of fried eggs and coffee. She fixed a cup, gave Mac a quick peck on the cheek and sat at the kitchen table to watch him cook. In a few minutes, Mac set a plate of food in front of her and joined Buffy at the table. She watched him eat with a disbelieving smile. The young woman had never seen a man that could consume so much, so quickly.

“Don’t forget, we’re having dinner at my Mom’s today,” she reminded him. She didn’t think he’d have forgotten, she just wanted him to stop eating long enough to answer. It gave her the opportunity to shovel some of the food off her plate and on to his. Buffy was a little afraid of getting her hands too near his food when he was eating.

Completely oblivious to her intention, Mac stopped vacuuming his plate.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he answered as she slid half her portion in front of him. Seeing this, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not hungry?”

“Mac,” she scolded him, “if I ate everything you put in front of me, I’d be something like a size twenty.”

Mac grinned at her. “I think we can find a way to burn the calories,” he suggested with the hint of a leer in his voice. Buffy grinned back at him.

“Cradle robber,” she said, and winked.

Buffy and Mac were sitting on the porch, Buffy comfortably ensconced in his lap, with their feet kicked up on the rail when Thomas Jager drove up into their driveway on a massive Harley. Setting the kick- stand, he dismounted the bike and strolled up the steps to the pair. He carried a newspaper in his hand.

“Hi, Thomas,” Buffy said.

Mac called out something in French. Jager responded in the same language, then turned and nodded at Buffy, saying in his vaguely German- accented voice, “Hello, Buffy. How are you today?”

“Suddenly annoyed,” she answered. “I think you two do that whole French thing just to get to me.”

The German returned, “In truth, no.”

Mac added, “I just don’t want this ugly bastard blistering your innocent young ears, honey.” He kissed and nuzzled her neck. Buffy squirmed in his lap, having a happy. After a moment – and entirely too soon in Buff’s estimation – Mac pulled his lips away and said to Jager, “So, Hunter. What’s up?”

Jager handed over the paper and said something else in French. This time, Buffy understood one of the words. The word was ‘Polovsky’. Feeling her boyfriend suddenly tense beneath her, the young woman knew she’d heard correctly.

“Whoa, guys! Enough with the whole talking around me thing,” she complained. “I just heard a bad word. It sounded suspiciously like ‘Polovsky’.”

Mac unfolded the paper. The front page’s headline screamed “*Third murder victim found!*” Buffy’s eyes widened as she caught part of the first paragraph. The words ‘murder’ and ‘rape’ jumped out at her.

“*Mierde*!” breathed Mac. Then he was sliding out from under the woman in his lap, dropping the paper as he rose. Buffy snatched it up as she thumped into the empty chair. Noticing that the paper was from San Francisco, she read the story. She heard Mac start shooting a barrage of questions at Thomas in French.

“Mac!” she warned. “*English*.”

Mac switched languages in the middle of a sentence without pause. “-any idea where he is?”

“Sorry, Reaper. There’s not even any proof that he did this,” temporized Jager.

“It’s him,” answered Mac flatly.

“We’re trying. I called Dawson this morning. We need some luck.” Jager was a Watcher, member of a secret society that observed and recorded the lives of immortals. The watched – ergo ‘Watchers’. The same circumstances that had brought Mac to Sunnydale had led him to become aware of the Watchers. Joe Dawson was big in the Watcher community. The man had proven in the past that he could make miracles happen. Still, Jager was right – they needed some luck.

Almost all immortals had Watchers. Polovsky’s had died in a car wreck weeks before. Since that time Watchers all over the world had been looking for him. Mac now knew – knew in his bones – that the bastard had gone to ground in San Francisco.

Mac had plenty of reason to want him dead *personally*. Polovsky had killed his teacher, an immortal named Finn Mac Cuhill.

Buffy finished the article and looked up at her lover and his Watcher.

She’d seen that look on Mac’s face before. One really bad night recently she and her best friend Willow had almost died. Would have died, if Mac hadn’t thundered in to the basement where they were being held captive like the wrath of god himself. She had seen him literally tear the head off of a vampire that night.

He’d had that very expression on his face at the time.

Buffy sat with Thomas in the kitchen drinking coffee. Mac was out back venting his frustration on one of the two heavy punching bags.

“All right, Thomas, give,” she ordered the Watcher. “I’m starting to have a major wiggins here.” Jager looked at the young woman for a moment, wondering what to say. He admired Buffy. He had some idea of the horrors she’d dealt with as the Slayer – the one girl out of her generation chosen to protect humanity from the vampires. Consequently, he was pretty sure she’d never dealt with anything like this. A few weeks before, Reaper had assembled a strike team to help the Slayer clean out the vast bulk of the vampire population that was infesting Sunnydale, postponing his pursuit of the immortal Jan Polovsky to do so. During that time, she’d discovered that she was an immortal. And she and Mac had fallen in love.

Now her man was gearing up to pursue Polovsky. Jager knew it and so did she. She wanted to know the details about *why*. More, she deserved to know.

Jager had been the Reaper’s Watcher for nearly ten years. They were brothers of the Legion, a strong tie. Between that personal connection and the Watcher’s intimate familiarity with the immortal, Jager had built up great respect for his ‘assignment’. Since the two of them had met, a strong friendship had rapidly grown between them.

Because of all that, he decided to answer Buffy’s question as fully as he could.

“About two hundred years ago – in 1801, to be exact – Reaper’s teacher discovered that a group of nuns had been slaughtered at an abbey in Silesia – that’s in Poland,” the Watcher answered in response to her confused look. “The man who killed them had taken his time. From start to finish, it probably took more than a month to finish them all.

Their murderer had locked them in chains – the young ones at least.

The others he simply killed outright. The young ones he...played with. One at a time.

“Seeing what had been done, Mac Cuhill joined the hunt for the ‘man’ that had...savaged...them. He was relentless in his pursuit, but came up dry.” The Watcher sipped his coffee.

“Almost two year later,” he continued, “Mac Cuhill learned of a similar spectacle in Austria. Immediately he went there and took up the chase again. This time he had some luck. He cornered Polovsky in a church. Holy ground, so he could do nothing but wait. As he sat in the church, Polovsky taunted him.

“Then Polovsky set the church on fire. In the smoke and confusion, he escaped, Mac Cuhill dogging his heels. Polovsky had great luck that day. Somehow, he eluded his pursuer. Yet Mac Cuhill never stopped hunting him. They even fought a couple of times. Both times, Polovsky escaped him. Always lucky that one. Just over a month ago, they met again. Here.

“Again with the bastard’s infernal luck! Attacked and weakened by vampires, Mac Cuhill fell to his enemy. You were here for the rest.”

Buffy thought about the day she’d met Mac. At their first meeting the Slayer had been sitting on the ground, knocked down by an unfamiliar sensation. Not initially realizing that Buffy was unaware of her status as an immortal, Mac had believed that she was the one that killed Finn Mac Cuhill and challenged her. Subsequently, he had informed her of what she was and what that entailed. Their meeting was the first link in the chain of events caused by Polovsky’s killing Mac Cuhill and ending with Buffy moving in with O’Byrne.

Buffy had known that Polovsky was unfinished business for her boyfriend. She simply hadn’t understood the truth as to why, assuming Mac’s unvoiced obsession was a simple desire for vengeance. Mac hadn’t corrected her assumption. Not wanting to upset her and disturb their bliss, he’d decided that Polovsky had enough of a head start that, in effect, hunting for the immortal could be put off.

Now three innocent women were dead. Buffy knew it must be tearing him apart. Leaving the Watcher in the kitchen, she went out into the backyard.

Mac had a calm, cold expression on his face as he pummeled the heavy bag. Dressed only in a pair of sweat pants, the veteran was drenched with perspiration. His hands were bleeding from the punishment he was inflicting. The bag was splattered with sweat and blood. As Buffy watched, he suddenly seized the bag with both hands and began alternately driving his knees into hit – left, right, left, right...

Finally, Mac collapsed to the ground exhausted. The woman walked over to him and crouched down on her knees. Seeing that tears were streaming down his face, Buffy’s heart wrenched.

Wrapping her arms around the man, she tried to comfort him. “It’s not your fault, Mac,” she said softly.

“No?” Mac growled.

“No,” she assured him firmly. “We both know – if you’d known where to find him, you’d’ve been off like a shot.”

“I could have *looked*,” he stated. “I should have hunted him!”

“Where?” she demanded. “And don’t say ‘In San Francisco’ – you didn’t know he was there!”

“Maybe I would have if I hadn’t been...” Mac’s voice trailed off.

“If you hadn’t been *what*, Mac? Helping me? Saving lives here?”

Mac looked away from her. “If I hadn’t put my own desire to stay here ahead of my duty!” he snarled. “If I hadn’t decided that you were more important!”

Buffy looked stricken. ‘Oh, God!’ she worried. ‘Does he blame *me*?’ The young woman sat back away from him as tears of pain formed in her eyes.

Suddenly, Mac reached out and grabbed her. Pulling her close, he squeezed her in his arms. For the first time in as long as the immortal could remember – perhaps the first time in his life – he broke down and sobbed. The rage and pain he felt at the loss of Finn, his guilt that he hadn’t surrendered his own happiness with Buffy to track Polovsky, all the years of struggle, death, war and loss overwhelmed Mac all at once. Holding the woman he loved, he cried in her arms.

Buffy didn’t know how to react. She’d never pictured Mac like this.

Never in her life had she believed she would be comforting someone as she was at that moment. Not knowing what else to do, Buffy did exactly the right thing – she held her man quietly as he sobbed.

Jager watched from the kitchen door as his friend cried in Buffy’s arms. After a few moments he went back and sat down at the kitchen table. After a minute’s consideration, the Watcher decided that this was something that should undoubtedly be recorded for posterity. He also knew that it wouldn’t be. The display in the backyard would remain secret. Undoubtedly historians of the future would appreciate reading about the moment when the immortal called the Reaper had become human, when he was finally pushed past his limit and was confronted with the choice of becoming a man or a monster.

Too bad.

After a while, Mac quieted. Buffy was gently stroking his hair as she held him. His own hold of her became less desperate, more tender. Looking at his lady, he wiped the tears from her face. In a moment, she did the same for him. Then they kissed. Breaking his lips away from hers, he whispered, “I love you. Remember that, no matter what – I love you.”

Buffy moaned, “I love you, too,” into his chest.

Finally, the two of them got up and returned to the house. Seeing that Jager had left, they quietly moved upstairs and started cleaning up.

Mac climbed into the shower, letting the warmth of the water ease the last of his tension away. Buffy joined him and began soaping his back.

In a short time the lovers were on the bed, still wet from the shower. Desperately, they clung to each other, holding on as if afraid to let go. Buffy cried throughout their coupling, Mac trying to kiss away her tears.

In the years to come, Buffy always thought it was the sweetest, most powerful love they ever made.

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
1630, Sunday

Buffy pulled her car into her mother’s driveway. The car was all of three days old. Mac had decided that Buffy required transportation. With his typically pragmatic approach to problem solving, he’d picked Buffy up from school, driven her to a car dealership and said ‘Pick one.’

She’d been pretty excited about it at the time. Now, with her entire world falling apart, the car was just transportation. As soon as she walked into her mother’s house, Joyce saw that something was very wrong.

“Where’s Mac, honey?” she asked her daughter.

“He can’t make it, Mom. Something sort of came up.”

Joyce studied her daughter intently. Whatever had ‘come up’ was obviously serious trouble. Joyce could think of only one thing that might cause trouble for the veteran – another immortal. At that, she only knew of one immortal that Mac really wanted a piece of.

“That ‘something’ wouldn’t be named ‘Polovsky’ would it?” she asked.

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. “How did... How could...” she stammered out.

“Joe Dawson and Colonel Deblout told me. What’s Mac going to do?”

“Did you hear about those women that were killed in ‘Frisco?” Buffy asked. Joyce nodded. “Well, Mac’s decided that Polovsky did it. He’s getting ready to go up there,” Buffy’s voice devolved into a wail as she broke down and began to cry.

Joyce went to her daughter and held her.

Scene 3
Sunnydale Ca.
150 Creek St
1700, Sunday (Local)

Mac finished packing his bags and carried them down to his living room.

Jager was waiting for him with his own bag.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Hunter?” Mac asked the Watcher.

“My job,” replied Jager. “I’m your Watcher, remember?”

“To hell with that! We’re brothers of the Legion,” stated Mac, playing his hole card.

“Yes, Reaper, we are. And I’m going with-”

“You’re gonna stay her and look after Buffy,” the immortal cut him off.

“Please.”

Jager looked disgusted. Buffy was the Slayer. If it came right down to it, she was better off looking after herself. Jager maintained no illusions – he’d just slow her down. Besides, he had a hole card of his own to play.

“If I let you go off alone and you don’t come back, she’ll kill *me*, and you damn well know it!”

Mac looked a little nonplussed at that. Damn, but Hunter was probably right. Still...

“Brother, *please*,” he pleaded. “Buffy’s fighting a war *here*. Despite her friends’ experience, you’re still the best backup she could get-”

“After *you*,” interrupted Jager. Still, it was obvious Mac wasn’t going to budge. With a sigh, the younger man relented. “All right, you damn-”

“Tell her I love her, Hunter.” With that, Mac walked out of the house.

Behind him, he could just here Jager say, “Bring your ass back in one piece and tell her yourself, my friend.”

Mac threw his bag in the back of the Pathfinder, got in the truck and drove away.

Scene 4
Sunnydale Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
1800, Sunday (Local)

Joyce answered the knock at the door to find Jager on the front porch.

“Thomas!” she exclaimed. “Do you know where...” Her voice trailed off as Jager slipped past her. He walked into the living room to find Buffy sitting, teary eyed, on the couch.

“Is he gone?” Buffy asked him.

Jager nodded. “About a half-hour ago,” he confirmed.

“Then why aren’t you with him?” she demanded. “You’re his Watcher! You should-” she cut herself off and started crying again. Jager went and sat next to the young woman on the couch. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“For the same reason you’re not, Buffy,” he answered. “He doesn’t want me there.”

Buffy laid her head on his chest and sobbed. After a while, she quieted down and asked, “Did he say anything?”

“Just that he loved you.”

As her daughter sobbed, Joyce sat down on her other side and began stroking Buffy’s back. ‘Damn that man!’ her mind screamed. To make her daughter cry like this...

Buffy finally got control of herself again. “He’ll be all right, won’t he Thomas?” she asked.

Jager grinned. “Of course he will, my lady,” he assured her. “Of course he will.”

Scene 5
L.A., Ca.
I-5 South
1930, Sunday (Local)

Polovsky smiled to himself as he sped south on the last leg of his trip. In an hour he’d be back in Sunnydale. After he dumped the car.

Damn nosy cop!

Anyway, he’d dump the car, get a new one and finish the drive. He’d rest tonight. Tomorrow he’d steal O’Byrne’s woman. O’Byrne would come to him and then-

The ‘buzz’ of a passing immortal took him by surprise. For just a moment he lost control and the sedan swerved. The contact had been so brief... Whoever it was must have been heading north.

North...

From *Sunnydale*!

Polovsky grinned. O’Byrne – it had to be O’Byrne. The other immortal must have heard about the murders and headed north to hunt him!

The surprise of the brief ‘buzz’ shocked Mac. In an instant of near- clairvoyance, the truth clicked-- Polovsky – headed south.

South – toward Sunnydale.

Mac hit the very next off ramp. In minutes he was headed back home, pushing the SUV as fast as it would go.

‘God, please let me catch him right here! Right now!’

By the time he reached Sunnydale’s outskirts, Mac knew that either Polovsky had pulled over – assuming it was Polovsky – or had somehow stayed out of detection range ahead of him. Either way, it didn’t matter. If Polovsky had come back, he’d made a serious mistake.

Sunnydale was now Mac’s home turf. Between himself, Hunter, Buffy and her friends, he had the town pretty well wired. The bastard would be leaving Sunnydale in a box. A small box.

Lots of them.

Part 2

Scene 1
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
2330, Sunday (Local)

“Mulder,” complained Dana Scully, “please tell me that you’ve got a really good reason to drag me in here at eleven at night.”

Fox Mulder looked up from his desk and gazed at his partner. “Yeah, Scully. I do. We’ve got just enough time to catch the red-eye to L.A.”

“And why would we be catching the red-eye?”

“You know how you’re always complaining I never take you anywhere fun? Well, I thought we might visit a little spot called *Boca del Infierno*,” he informed her with a crooked smile.

Scully thought about that for a second. “’Mouth of Hell’? You’re taking me to someplace called the ‘Mouth of Hell’ and you call that fun?” she demanded.

“Yeah, let’s go. I’ll explain on the way to Dulles. Our flight to L.A. Leaves in about an hour.”

“You remember reading recently about those murders in San Francisco?” he asked as he drove them through the light late-night traffic.

“San Francisco, Mulder. *San Francisco*,” Scully emphasized. “*Not* L.A. You said we’re going to L.A. To the ‘*Mouth of Hell*’ in L.A., to be specific.”

“I’m getting to that. Anyway, a car was stolen in ‘Frisco, its owner murdered, two days ago. Guess where that car was spotted this evening?”

“Wild guess. L.A.?” she asked sarcastically.

“Give the lady a cigar. Guess what the connection is?” he teased her.

“Same killer?”

“You got it. The car’s owner was killed in an almost identical fashion – and probably with the same knife – as one of the women. Gutted like a fish. A couple of hours ago, a cop in the City of Angels pulled that car over. He’s dead, too. Guess how he was killed?”

Scully grimaced. “All right. So the serial killer has moved south. If he’s killed a cop, then every policeman in the state will be looking for him. Why are we going?” she persisted. “So far, this doesn’t sound like an X-File.”

“Two weeks ago, in San Francisco, a man was beheaded at one of the locations near where one of the murdered women was snatched. Last month, two men were similarly beheaded in a little suburb of L.A. Called Sunnydale,” he explained.

“And you think it’s the same killer? Mulder that’s a crock and you know it. Serial killers are very monogamous. They pick one method and stay with it,” Scully reminded him.

“I don’t know if it is the same killer, Scully. What I do know is that decapitation murders have been on the rise world wide over the last ten years. They tend to be centered in certain cities. Namely Seattle, New York, Paris and London. But only centered. They’ve been going on all over the place.

“What makes these murders special is a very similar set of reports surrounding the murders-- sudden storms of ‘blue lightning’ and , in many of the cases, very valuable merchandise is left behind,” he finished.

“Drugs?” she guessed.

“Swords,” he replied.

In the air, their conversation carried on as Mulder handed his partner several case files. In each file, the same set of curious circumstances were reported. Mysterious ‘blue lightning’ on otherwise clear days, valuable swords – many of them antiques worth tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars – and... Victims whose identities either didn’t check out, or who were themselves suspects in decapitation style murders. Several surviving suspects turned up repeatedly. Duncan Macleod. Russell Nash. Finn Bonet. Mackenzie O’Byrne...

Scully finally turned to Mulder. “So...”

“Did you see the name O’Byrne?” he asked. “Macleod?”

She nodded.

“Guess where Mr. O’Byrne just moved to?” he asked.

“Sunnydale?”

“Damn, Scully. You’re on a roll. Can you guess where some gentlemen named Nash and Macleod visited last month?”

The picture was forming. “Sunnydale,” she answered. “You think one of them is the San Francisco killer?”

“What I think is that several suspects in ‘Headhunter’ cases suddenly converged in L.A. Last month and left two men named Finn Bonet and Mark Cathay dead in their wake. But all that is just part one,” Mulder taunted.

“Much as I know I’m going to regret this-- what’s ‘Part two’?”

“Sunnydale sits on what many mystics believe is a gateway to Hell itself. The first Spanish settlers called it ‘*Boca del Infierno*’ – the Hellmouth. Where, from time to time, a lot of strange things have happened. The per capita death rate in Sunnydale is twelve times higher than in L.A. And I don’t mean from natural causes. To read the reports filed by the Sunnydale P.D., they have the worst drug and gang problem in the country.”

Scully sighed. “So?”

“So, the DEA says ‘liar, liar, pants on fire’,” Mulder replied.

“No drugs?” she asked, beginning to be interested despite herself.

Mulder shook his head. “No worse than any other town of similar size and location. L.A. Gangs actually seem to be avoiding the area.

“So, G-woman, a serial killer – and possible headhunter suspect – is apparently heading south to a small town which just saw its first two decapitation-style killings *ever*, where another headhunter suspect just moved and several others just visited and is believed to be a gateway to Hell? Which said town is the center of centuries of unexplainable occurrences which have radically increased in number over the last four years?

“Call me crazy, Scully, but I think this is an X-File.”

Scully shook her head. “Mulder you are crazy,” she confirmed.

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
2100, Sunday (Local)

Mac parked the truck and hopped out. Immediately he was hit with the ‘buzz’. As he approached the steps to the front porch, the door flew open revealing Buffy, sword in hand.

She just stared at her lover for a moment. Then she raced to him and leaped into his arms. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she covered his mouth with her own. After several long seconds she came up for air. Then she hit him.

Mac looked at her for a moment, then asked, “Miss me?”

“If you came back because you forgot something...” she warned.

Mac grabbed her and kissed her deeply. “I love you,” he said.

Buffy gave him that silly grin she got whenever he made her knees go weak. “I love you, too,” she replied. “Bastard,” she added.

The grin left his face. He took a deep breath, smelling her hair, breathing in her scent. After allowing himself that one perfect moment of peace with his beloved, he stepped back.

“I needn’t have bothered leaving to look for him,” he explained.

“What do you mean, honey?” Buffy asked.

“Polovsky. He’s coming here.”

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
2300, Sunday (Local)

Mac wanted Jager to grab a bag and move into Buffy’s old room. He briefly considered bringing Joyce over to the ‘Keep’ with Buffy and him, but decided in the end that it was better if she wasn’t there. Maybe Polovsky wouldn’t think to look for anyone in Mac’s life, but it wasn’t much of a hope.

‘Hope is not a viable coarse of action,’ Finn’s memory reminded him.

Best to just keep his distance and put protection on Buffy’s mother. Putting protection on Buffy, however, was something else again.

“Hell, no!” she announced. “If you think for one minute I’m gonna play the ‘little woman’ and hide here – sorry, Mom, no offense – Mackenzie O’Byrne, you’ve got another think coming!”

Mac sighed. “I don’t want you to hide, honey. I want you to stay here. Watch out for your mother-”

“And, incidentally, stay out of the line of fire?” Buffy interrupted him. “Mac, that’s sweet, really. No.”

Joyce listened to the by-play, torn between amusement and fear. Buffy turned to her.

“Listen, Mom. I want you to take a vacation. Go visit your sister, ‘kay?”

Before Joyce could respond, Mac jumped in. “Excellent idea! Hunter, help her pack,” he ordered.

Joyce decided it was time to put her foot down. “Just a damn minute! I’m not going to be driven away while my daughter stays to deal with some psycho-”

“*Buffy*, won’t be dealing with him. I will,” Mac stated flatly. "Listen, Joyce. I just want to cover my bases. This bastard likes to hurt women and he’s not above taking hostages. Buffy can take care of herself. Hunter – *Thomas*,” he amended, “knows what to do if he trips over this guy-”

“Yeah,” affirmed Jager. “*Run*.”

“Precisely,” Mac nodded. “You, Joyce, are a civilian. He might try for Buffy. Might. But if he finds out about her – which, by the way, is what I’d like to avoid,” Buffy glared in response. “If he finds out about her, he’ll find you. That puts Buffy at risk. That reduces my ability to deal with him.”

“I’m staying,” Joyce said again. “Period.”

Mac and Jager traded a look. ‘*Women*!’ they communicated silently.

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0230, Monday (Local)

Mac groaned as he crawled into bed. Buffy sat there with her legs drawn up, wearing her favorite one of his shirts, looking at him. In response to his tired sounds, she smiled and turned out the light. Slipping under the covers, she molded herself to his body and laid her head on his chest.

“Mac?” she said.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I want you to promise me something,” she pleaded. Then her voice grew firm. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”

“Do what, Buffy?”

“Try to send me away. Don’t do it again. We’re a team. I know we have to deal with other immortals on our own – I don’t like it, but, okay, I can accept it. *But*, we’re a team. When Thomas walked in and you told me that you wanted to go it on your own, I died inside. Don’t ever do that to me again,” she begged.

Mac considered that. Polovsky was his problem. Wasn’t he? Of course, Buffy could always say that the legions of the undead that he helped her fight were her problem, couldn’t she? What would he do if she did? Accept it?

Of course not! But... Ah, to hell with it! He was born well before the age of ‘political correctness’ – and he was the man. Buffy’s abilities – which he maintained great respect for – weren’t the issue.

Then...what was the issue? He’d fallen in love with a warrior. More than that – with the only woman he’d ever met that really *fit*. Yes, she needed his protection – but not from evil. Not even from other immortals.

She needed her man to protect her heart. Beyond that, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Together, they did make one hell of a team. She knew he needed to fight this fight. She’d let him do it and never complain – unless he cut her out. That would hurt her in ways she might not be able to forgive.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

Buffy sat bolt upright in bed and turned on the light, then turned to stare at him. “What?!”

Mac looked at her. “I asked if you would marry me.”

Buffy couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me? Four hours ago you were trying to get rid of me!” she exclaimed.

“I was wrong. You’re right. We’re a team. You’re also the only woman I’ve ever loved. More, the only woman I’ve ever met that I could love.” Mac sat up and turned to face her. “I know this isn’t the way I should be doing this. There should be flowers and wine and a band playing in the corner of some romantic restaurant.

“I should be on my knees with a really suave speech. I always figured if I did meet a woman and wanted to marry her, I’d want all the crap about honor and obedience... But I don’t. We’re a team. I love you. I want to marry you,” he finished.

Buffy just stared at him for a long moment. “Mac, we’ve been together like, what, six weeks? And you want to get married?”

“Yes, I do. To you.” Mac stared at her for a long moment. “Buffy, will you marry me?” he asked.

Looking him in the eye, she said, “Yes.”

Part 3

Scene 1
L.A., Ca.
Los Angeles International Airport
0630, Monday (Local)

Special Agents Mulder and Scully practically stumbled off the plane and down the causeway. In short order they’d picked up a car, grabbed some coffee and started down I-5 to Sunnydale.

“So what’s the plan, Mulder?” asked Scully. “Knock on O’Byrne’s door and ask ‘So, chop off anyone’s head lately?’”

Mulder grinned at his partner. “That’d be one approach.” Scully shook her head. He continued, “How about we knock on his door and conduct a ‘routine inquiry’ about certain suspicious goings-on in the area? “

“How about if we check in with the Sunnydale P.D.?” she countered.

“No, no, no,” the Chief of the Sunnydale P.D. said as he shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong, Agents. What we’ve got here in Sunnydale is a bad bleed-over from the gang violence in L.A. Big problems with gang-bangers high on PCP.”

“Despite the fact that the DEA says that this ‘drug problem’ of yours doesn’t exist?” scoffed Scully. “Despite the fact that gang violence is on the decline for the third straight year in L.A.?”

As the Chief continued shaking his head, Mulder jumped in. “What about vampires, Chief?”

Scully’s head whipped around so fast that Mulder swore he heard a snapping sound. ‘Course, it might have been the Chief’s jaw thumping on his desk.

“Vampires?” repeated the Chief. “Agent Mulder,” he laughed, “this is California – not Transylvania! Vampires – go ahead, pull the other one.”

“Thank you for your help, Sir,” interjected Scully. “We’ll be in touch.” With that, she grabbed Mulder’s arm and tugged him out of the office. And out of the building. Once outside, she turned on her partner. “Vampires?!”

With the two FBI agents out of his office, the Chief began to sweat profusely. After several minutes, he regained control of himself long enough to reach for the phone.

“Mr. Mayor? It’s the Chief,” he began. “We may have a problem...”

“Vampires, Mulder? You said ‘serial killer’. You said ‘cop killer’. You even said ‘blue lightning, decapitations and swords’. You did not say ‘vampires’!” she said angrily. “If I catch you with another stake-”

“I could’ve sworn I mentioned the vampires, Scully,” he cut her off with a grin. “Let’s go visit a lady named Buffy,”

“’Buffy’? Who the hell is ‘Buffy’, Mulder?” Scully demanded.

“Buffy Summers. In several of the reports I received from those mystics I mentioned, her name came up,” he explained.

Scully shook her head.

A quick check in the phone book revealed that Joyce and Buffy Summers resided at 1630 Rabello Dr. Over Scully’s strenuous objections, the two agents headed there next.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to be home when they got there. Scully couldn’t help looking pleased at Mulder’s chagrined expression when no one answered the door. Even after he rang the bell for a solid minute.

“Mulder, they’re probably at work. It’s ten in the morning,” she pointed out.

“Good point, Scully. Let’s try O’Byrne.”

“Assuming he’s not also at work, Mulder, seeing as how it’s now,” Scully glanced at her watch, “ten- oh-two a.m., what does he have to do with vampires?” she asked in a saccharine-laced voice.

Mulder sighed. “This is plan ‘B’, Scully. Since we can’t investigate the vampires right now, we may as well investigate a headhunter.”

Scully groaned.

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1035, Monday (Local)

Buffy sat up and yawned, stretching her arms high over her head. Feeling Mac’s hand stroke her back, she turned and smiled down at her fiance.

“Purr,” she said.

Mac chuckled. “Skipping class today?” he asked and nodded toward the clock. Her first class had been over for more than half an hour. She briefly looked at the clock and turned back to him.

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a rich fiance. Phooey on class,” she said with a smile. Mac chuckled again.

“Well, since your cutting class anyway, how about we get up and go for a ride?” he suggested.

Buffy frowned. “Look for Polovsky?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “An engagement ring.”

Buffy laid back down, straddling him. “So this was like a serious proposal?”

“Yeah. And I’m hoping it was a serious answer,” Mac suggested pointedly.

Buffy kissed him softly. “It was, sweetie. It was definitely a serious answer.” She hopped up and started dragging on his arm, pulling him out of bed. “C’mon, lover. I want a really big diamond on my finger when I tell Mom.”

“Women and shiny rocks,” muttered Mac.

The doorbell rang before Buffy could reply to that. “You get the door,” she ordered. “I need time to get pretty.”

“No, you don’t,” disagreed Mac. That earned him another kiss before she darted into their bathroom.

Mac pulled on a pair of pants and a T-shirt before padding down the stairs. ‘This better not be another damned salesman,’ he grumbled silently. Whoever it was had apparently fallen asleep leaning on the buzzer. Reaching the door, the immortal jerked it open, one hand hovering near the breakbox that held a shotgun – the veteran warrior tended to be cautious almost to the point of paranoia. Of course, he still had his head, didn’t he?

Two people, a man and a woman, who were obviously feds – ‘Jesus! Do they issue those suits?’ – were waiting on the porch. Putting on his most neutral expression, he asked, “May I help you?”

“Mr. Mackenzie O’Byrne? We’re Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI,” said the male as they produced their Ids. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“May we come inside, sir?” asked the woman.

Mac stepped out on the porch and pulled the door shut. “No,” he replied. There was a space of several seconds while each waited for the other to speak.

“May we ask why not?” asked Scully.

“Sure,” answered Mac.

Several more seconds of silence followed. Scully gritted her teeth in annoyance. “Why can’t we step inside, Mr. O’Byrne?”

Mac gave it another long moment before he deigned to answer, “I said you could ask, ma’am. I didn’t say I’d answer.”

Scully took a threatening step forward. “Look-”

She got no farther than that. Mac stepped into her space. As she tried to back away, he reached out and touched her shoulder. Somehow, he spun her around and into Mulder, causing both of them to stumble into the porch rail. They looked up and stared down the barrel of Scully’s pistol.

In O’Byrne’s hand.

Pressing the tip of the barrel against her heart, Mac reached over and slid Mulder’s pistol out of the holster. With their guns in either of his hands, Mac cocked his head to the side.

“I’m going to let this one time be a warning, ma’am. Don’t push me again,” he said in a flat, dead voice. He reversed the pistols in his hands and offered them back to the feds. “Now, what do you want?”

Buffy lingered in the shower for a few minutes. When Mac didn’t come back and join her, she quickly finished, jumped out, brushed her teeth and got dressed. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a tank top, she headed downstairs.

Sniffing the air, Buffy determined that Mac hadn’t turned the coffee on yet. Odd. Who the hell was at the door?

She walked up to the door and opened it. Stepping outside, she found Mac and two people in ugly clothes that looked like every stereotype of a cop she’d ever seen, read of or heard about.

“Honey?” she asked. “What’s up?”

“Feds,” answered Mac cheerfully. “*Un*civil servants.”

The redheaded fed didn’t care for the sound of that. ‘Coarse, neither did Buffy. Whenever Mac got that cheerful tone in his voice, he was about to paste somebody. He’d had that same lilt when he’d tortured Spike.

She quickly stepped over to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. With a gentle squeeze, she communicated to him, ‘Watch your temper, sweetie.’ He glanced at her and let the corner of his mouth curl in a fractional smile. Mac sighed and wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

Scully and Mulder picked up quickly that the young woman had a calming effect on O’Byrne. Scully gave the woman her full attention.

“Hello. I’m Special Agent Dana Scully. This is my partner, Agent Mulder-”

Buffy interrupted her. “Isn’t he ‘special’, too?” she asked, causing O’Byrne to chuckle.

Scully reddened. “And you are...”

“Buffy.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look. How many ‘Buffys’ could there be?

“Buffy *Summers*?” asked Mulder.

“Yeah...for now anyway. Why?” she asked.

“What do you mean ‘for now’?” queried Scully.

“We’re engaged. So ‘Summers’ *for now*. What do you guys want, anyway?” Buffy was beginning to get annoyed with these two. Whatever they wanted couldn’t be good. Besides, she had a ring to shop for.

“Well, we’d like to ask Mr. O’Byrne, here, about a couple of recent murders. Death by decapitation. Sound familiar?” Mulder asked. Buffy gave Mac a quick glance.

Mackenzie still hadn’t changed expression. “I read about it in the paper, Mr. Mulder. The first one happened almost a week before I moved here,” he pointed out.

“Do the names Russell Nash and Duncan Macleod ring any bells, sir?” asked Scully, keeping an eye on Buffy. O’Byrne might as well be carved from stone – when the man had attacked and disarmed them he’d never changed expression. Even now he stood there stoically. The girl, on the other hand, obviously had much less experience hiding her emotions. Buffy Summers knew those names.

“Again, ma’am,” Mac answered. “I never said anything about answering your questions. We’re done.” With that, Mac turned Buffy around and walked her to the door.

“I suppose you don’t want to talk about the vampires, either, then?” Mulder called out to the retreating couple and causing Scully to wince. O’Byrne and the girl froze, then slowly turned around.

Buffy began to softly lecture him in response. “I don’t know what it is you know, Agent Mulder – or what it is that you think you know – but let me give you some friendly advice-- don’t dig in Sunnydale. or anything.” She turned and walked back to Mac’s side.

Together, and without another word, the couple disappeared into the house, leaving the agents behind. Scully and Mulder exchanged a long look.

“Scully,” asked Mulder. “Do you believe this is a coincidence?”

“You mean our headhunter suspect living with your vampire girl?” Scully shook her head. “Hell of a coincidence.”

“You saw their reaction to my question about vampires. What did you think of that?” Mulder asked.

Scully thought about their previous ‘vampire’ cases. “All right, Mulder. They know something. And,” she reluctantly conceded, “so do the cops. I just don’t understand the connection between the vampires and the headhunter cases.”

“Well, legend says that one way to kill a vampire is by beheading it,” her partner suggested.

“Mulder, what are you saying? That the headhunter case is about killing vampires?” she scoffed. “Then how do you explain the serial killer in San Francisco? And the murdered cop in L.A.?”

“I’m beginning to think that a vampire may be behind that,” Mulder replied. Seeing his partner open her mouth to object, he hastily amended, “Granted, the victims in those cases were knifed. Maybe it’s a really gruesome vampire.”

Scully just shook her head and went back to the car.

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1100, Monday (Local)

Buffy waited patiently while Mac showered. She watched on the security monitor in Mac’s office as the two feds got in their car and parked across the street. They obviously weren’t going away anytime soon.

Damn it!

Eventually, Mac came back downstairs and walked into the office. “They still here?” he asked her.

Buffy nodded and pointed at the monitor. “Parked across the street. What do we do?”

Mac walked over to his desk and sat down. Picking up the phone, he dialed a Seattle number. When the other end was picked up, he hit the speaker button and said, “Joe, Mac. How’re you doing?”

“*Hey, Mac! How are things in Sunnydale?*” asked Joe Dawson.

“Great, great. Listen, Joe, I may have a problem. Do you guys have any connections in the FBI?” queried the immortal.

“*Yeah, I’ve got an old friend there. He’s an Assistant Director*.”

“Good. A pair of agents named Fox Mulder and Dana Scully just showed up here. They’re asking questions about Duncan and Connor – only, in Connor’s case, they used the name Nash,” Mac explained.

“*Oh, shit!*” exclaimed the Watcher.

“Yeah, I know – but it gets better. They were looking for Buffy, too,” agreed Mac.

“*Looking for Buffy? They knew where to find her?*” worried Dawson.

“No, I don’t think they expected to find her here. They wanted to ask her about vampires.”

“*I don’t believe it! What the hell is going on down there?*”

“I don’t know, Joe. Hunter tell you about Polovsky?” Mac asked.

“*Yeah, he called last night. Two feds is something you sure don’t need right now. I’ll call my friend and find out what I can.*”

“Thanks, Joe. Do it quick will you? I need intel – and I need it fast.”

“*I’ll do it right now. You two take care*,” Dawson instructed. The Watcher hung up the phone.

In Seattle, Dawson dug out his address book and looked up the number of his old friend from Viet Nam. He quickly punched a number into his phone. It rang only twice before being picked up.

“*Director Skinner’s office. How may I help you?*” asked a woman on the other end of the line.

“My name’s Joe Dawson. I need to speak to Walter Skinner – it’s urgent,” he informed her.

In his office at the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington, D.C., A.D. Walter Skinner was reviewing a budgeting report when his secretary buzzed him. “Yes?” he asked.

“*Sir, there’s a Joe Dawson on the phone for you. He says it’s urgent,*” she informed him.

‘Joe Dawson?’ wondered Skinner. ‘What could he want?’ Skinner and Dawson had known each other since their time in Viet Nam. They still saw each other occasionally, whenever Joe happened to visit D.C.

And Joe had managed to quietly slip him useful information from time to time over the years. Joe apparently had some amazing sources of information. Skinner had learned to never ask how he came by that info. When Joe offered something, he just took it and was grateful for it.

Wondering what Joe had for him this time, he instructed his secretary, “Put him through.” Skinner picked up the phone. “Joe? What’s up?”

“*Walter, I hate to bother you, but I need some information – and I need it fast. Can you find out about a couple of agents named Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?*”

Skinner’s eyes widened. “Why do you want to know about Scully and Mulder, Joe?” he demanded. Mulder had told him about a serial killer in San Francisco that he’d believed was headed to L.A. And requested permission to drop everything to head out there. Knowing that he probably wasn’t going to get any more information from the agent at that time, Skinner had approved the requeSt.

But Joe Dawson lived in Seattle. What in hell was Mulder up to now?

“*I can’t really get into that, Walter. I just need to know what you can tell me about them,*” answered his old friend.

“Sorry, Joe. They’re two of my best agents. I’m not going to tell you anything without a good reason.” A damn good reason.

“*Walter... I’ve helped you whenever I could. It’s time for some payback, buddy,*” demanded Dawson.

“You know me better than that, *buddy*,” Skinner answered with hostility in his voice. The line was silent for a long beat.

Dawson considered what to tell the FBI man. Finally, he sighed.

“*Walter... These two agents of yours are about to step into a shitstorm. You wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you,*” he demurred.

Considering what the nature of Mulder and Scully’s work was, Sinner doubted that. “Try me,” he demanded.

“*Your two fair-haired children are in Sunnydale, California investigating vampires.*” Dawson paused to let that sink in, then repeated, “Vampires, *Walter. As in blood-sucking demons from Hell. Believe me when I say that they’re in over their heads, old friend. Now, what can you tell me?*”

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
1230, Monday (Local)

Scully and Mulder sat in their rental car across the street from O’Byrne’s residence discussing their observations. Scully was remarking on the remote location of the subjects’ house when Mulder’s cell phone rang.

“Mulder,” he answered.

“*Mulder, where are you and what – exactly – are you doing?*” demanded the voice of A.D. Skinner.

“Investigating the serial killer, sir,” answered Mulder. Scully gave him a disbelieving look. “We’re tracking a possible connection in a suburb called ‘Sunnydale.’”

“*So your investigation has nothing to do with vampires?*” demanded Skinner.

Mulder tensed up. What the hell?! “Vampires, sir?” he echoed. Scully’s eyes grew wide.

“*I just got a call from an old...source. A very reliable old source.

He tells me that not only are you investigating *vampires*, Mulder, but that your in way over your head on this one. I can’t help remembering the last time you investigated vampires,*” Skinner finished accusingly.

Mulder flushed. He’d almost been arrested for murder when he staked a boy he’d claimed was a vampire a couple of years before.

“This case has a lot of peculiar angles, sir,” he answered. “But, yes, there may be a vampiric element to it. Or, at least, some of the principals might think so,” the agent amended.

Inside the house, the phone rang. Buffy snatched it up. “Hello?” she answered.

“*Buffy, it’s Joe. Mac still there?*” asked the Watcher.

“Yeah, Joe. Just a sec. Honey!” she called. Mac appeared from the kitchen with a couple cups of coffee. He handed her one and took the phone.

“Talk to me,” he instructed.

“*Mac, these two FBI agents are trouble. They’re assigned to something called the ‘X-Files’*” explained Dawson. “*Apparently, they investigate inexplicable phenomena – which includes the paranormal. This guy Mulder has investigated vampires in the past.*”

“*Mierde*!” exclaimed Mac.

“*It gets worse, Mac. Mulder and Scully are officially out there to investigate a serial killer that they believe is moving south from San Francisco. You thinking what I’m thinking?*”

“Polovsky,” Mac said flatly. “Shit!”

“*Lay low, my friend,*” advised the Watcher.

Mulder closed the cell phone. His conversation with Skinner hadn’t been entirely pleasant. He told Scully what the A.D. Had had to say.

“Mulder, follow this back,” she said. “Who could have told Skinner?”

“I don’t know. O’Byrne must have some influential friends if-” Mulder broke off. “Speak of the devil.”

Across the street, O’Byrne and Summers were walking out to the Pathfinder parked in the driveway. The two subjects got in and drove off toward the freeway. The agents followed. Ninety minutes later, the two cars were parked at an expensive looking jewelry store in L.A.. The subjects hopped out and walked over to where Scully and Mulder were parked. Mac beckoned them out of their car.

“Listen, you two. I know that you’re both too damn stupid to go away, so here’s the deal. Buffy and I have some shopping to do. Then we’re taking her mother out to dinner. Leave us alone, follow us, flap your arms and fly – I don’t care.

“*But*,” he continued, “if you really want to know about vampires, you’ll go find a motel and get some sleep. Come out to our place around nine.” O’Byrne turned on his heel and walked back to the girl.

With her hand on his arm, they walked into the store.

The two agents traded a look.

“What do think changed his mind?” asked Mulder.

“I’m guessing she did.” Scully turned to her partner. “Mulder, if we start chasing after vampires, who’s going to look for the serial killer?” she demanded.

“I’m telling you, Scully. Somehow it’s all connected. And those two are right in the middle of it,” he answered with certainty.

Scully shook her head. “Mulder, you have no proof of that. Nothing, in fact beyond a wild coincidence and some unfounded guesses,” she complained.

“The longest journey starts with the first step, Scully,” Mulder pontificated. Scully groaned.

Almost an hour later, the two subjects re-emerged from the jewelry store. The girl was sporting a good-size diamond on her left hand.

Scully guessed that it must have cost a small fortune.

‘No,’ she decided. ‘A large fortune.’

From the jeweler, O’Byrne and Summers went to a mall, where they spent two hours wandering around. Summers bought a few clothes and led the man into a Victoria’s Secret. She bought a bag full of things there, and the two of them left the mall. The next stop was a gun store. A half-hour later, they carried a crate of ammunition out to the truck.

The two car convoy finally headed back to Sunnydale, getting to the house on Creek St a little after five o’clock. The residents carried their purchases inside while Mulder and Scully waited in their car, once again parked across from the house. At six-thirty, O’Byrne and Summers reappeared, got back in the truck and drove downtown

Joyce waited at Mulligan’s Restaurant for her daughter and Mac to show.

Buffy had called at one and insisted that the three of them go out to dinner. Joyce had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach for the rest of the day.

When Buffy and Mac walked into the restaurant a little before seven, Joyce knew her suspicions had been sound. Buffy had an absolutely huge engagement ring on her finger. It had taken Mackenzie O’Byrne all of six weeks to steal Buffy away.

‘God, it’s just too soon!’ she wailed silently. Curiously, it wasn’t the six weeks that bothered Joyce – she herself believed that Buffy and Mac belonged together. Those two fit like a hand in a glove and would probably be together long after Joyce had passed on.

It was just too soon for Joyce. Her baby had grown up and found her own man and her own life. Sometimes Joyce realized that she actually saw just as much of Buffy now as she ever had – it was a rare day Buffy didn’t at least stop by – but that didn’t change the fact that her little girl was *gone*.

Struggling to put a smile on her face, Joyce stood up and embraced her daughter.

Part 4

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2115, Monday (Local)

Mac parked the truck and turned off the ignition before turning to look at his fiancé. Buffy had tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked.

“Oh, Mom,” she answered. “She’s trying hard, but...”

“Right. Trying hard. But she’s so upset that it took the two of you all of what? Five minutes to start planning the wedding?” he teased.

Buffy grinned. “Yeah, well... It’s a female thing, honey,” she teased him back. Mac leaned over and kissed her.

“Ready to go to work?” he asked. Buffy nodded. “Go ahead and change. I’ll go collect our tag-alongs.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mac?” she asked. “This smells like trouble to me.”

“A good idea? No,” Mac replied. “But I can think of only a limited number of ways to stop them. I think you’d like those options less.” Buffy shuddered at his implication. Mac seldom let the blackness within him show through, but she knew it was always there. “Besides,” he continued, “if Joe’s friend is right, maybe they can be of some use.”

“And what if they find out about us? About the Game?” she persisted. If the two feds already knew about vampires, fine. If they found out about immortals, that was something else again. Buffy and her friends understood all too well what the governments of the world would likely do if immortals were discovered.

“I’ll deal with that when – if – the time comes,” Mac answered. No, not *Mac*, Buffy decided. *Reaper*. She suddenly had another reason to hope the feds didn’t discover their secret. If he decided they were a threat, Mac would kill them without blinking an eye. Reaper had no qualms whatsoever about killing an enemy. He’d been doing that for forty years.

The two immortals got out of the truck. The Slayer went into the house to get ready for ‘work’ while Mac went over to collect the two feds.

As O’Byrne approached the car, Mulder rolled down the window. “I told you we’d be back around nine,” the immortal chastised the agents. “Of course, I figured you were stupid, too. I guess you’d better come on in,” he finished. O’Byrne turned his back on the agents and went back up his driveway toward the front door.

Mulder gave him a hostile look as he retreated. While he and Scully had spent the day following the young couple, his friends had tried to check deeper into O’Byrne’s past. The Lone Gunmen had found little.

Mackenzie O’Byrne was obviously at least ten years older than the he appeared to be – he’d done something classified for the Reagan administration back in the early and mid- eighties.

Something highly classified. Most of the government’s information on the man was incredibly well restricted. Not that there was much of it. What there was painted the picture of a highly skilled – and very valuable – government agent.

Still – or maybe as a result – it irked Mulder to no end that this kid was calling him stupid. O’Byrne looked to be all of twenty- five. Maybe younger. His fiancé was twenty – barely twenty at that. A pair of children had spent the day running all over L.A., jerking his chain just for the hell of it. Mulder’s annoyance continued to mount until he recalled what he’d seen in O’Byrne’s eyes earlier that day. The girl’s eyes as well, to a slightly lesser extent.

Their eyes certainly weren’t young. Mulder and Scully got out of the car and followed O’Byrne.

Buffy took a quick shower and pulled on some comfortable clothes. When she returned downstairs she found the two feds sitting on a couch in the living room. Mac had given them each a soda.

“Hi, there!” she called out.

“Hello, Ms. Summers,” Scully greeted her. Her partner just nodded.

Buffy grimaced. “Buffy, please. ‘Ms. Summers’ makes me feel old. Besides,” she grinned, “Mac hates the term ‘Ms.’”

“Okay, Buffy,” answered Mulder. “So when are you and your boyfriend-”

“Fiancé,” Buffy corrected him.

“-*Fiancé*,” echoed Mulder without breaking stride, “going to tell us about the vampires?”

“Well, Fox – can I call you Fox? – we figured it would be easier to show you than to try and explain.”

Mulder looked a little nonplussed at Buffy’s presumption. Scully hid a grin – Mulder hated to be called ‘Fox’.

“Actually, Buffy, Mulder doesn’t like being called that,” Scully explained.

“Well,” announced Mac as he walked back into the living room with a coffee tray, “Buffy and I don’t really like being followed around, either.” He set the tray down and fixed a cup which he handed to Buffy. He held the pot up and raised an eyebrow at the two agents in silent question.

“Yes, please,” Scully answered him. “Cream, no sugar.”

“Black,” answered Mulder. The four of them were quiet as Mac fixed the coffee and passed out the cups. Buffy left for a minute, returning with a thermos. Mac poured the rest of the coffee in, added cream and sugar, closed it up and vigorously shook the container.

Buffy left again, returning this time with a bag. Mac handed her the thermos and left the room. Once he was gone, Buffy turned to their unwelcome guests.

“Okay, guys, listen up. What we do is dangerous. If you’re gonna come with us, we need a few ground rules,” she instructed. “One, do what we tell you – don’t argue, ever, because we’re not playing games.

“Two, we may or may not see anything tonight. Things have been kind of quiet lately. If nothing happens, that’s a good thing.

“Three – and this is really important – don’t piss us off. Especially Mac. When we hunt, my honey really gets in the zone,” she explained.

“Trust me on this. I’ve seen him in action. When Reaper comes calling, you just get the hell out of his way. Or you get dead. Got it?”

“Reaper?” asked Scully. Buffy frowned and cocked her head to the side.

“Yeah,” she answered carefully. “Mac’s...been around. He wasn’t always helping me do this. He had a life before he came here, you know.”

“Here to the Hellmouth?” asked Mulder.

Buffy’s eyes jumped wide open. “You know about that, huh? How much do you know?”

“That you and your friends run around chopping the heads off of people that you think are vampires and leave the bodies for the police to find,” Mulder guessed.

Buffy paled and turned to Mac as he walked back into the room, dressed for work. The two immortals exchanged a long look.

“That’s not quite the way it works, Mulder,” responded Mac. “Why don’t you quit playing guessing games for now. We’ll go see what we see – then we’ll talk.” He looked at Buffy. She nodded.

The two immortals opened the bag and started pulling out weapons. As the subjects of their investigation armed themselves, Mulder and Scully grew progressively more nervous. Mac and Buffy both wore loose pants, boots and turtle necks – comfortable clothes allowing plenty of movement. The clothes were dark and just stylish enough to let someone mistake why they were dressed that way.

O’Byrne slipped into a shoulder rig that had a shotgun swinging freely under his right arm – a well under legal-length shotgun. Both of them slipped silenced .38s into skeleton holsters at the small of their backs. Extra magazines went into cases hung on their belts. Buffy and Mac slipped on long, loose-fitting coats. Then they each slipped a half-dozen very sharp wooden stakes into pouches inside those coats.

When finished, they looked like two stylishly-dressed young people out for a night on the town – on the surface. To the two federal agents, it was obvious from the way they’d handled their gear that Mac and Buffy were, in fact, two well-armed and very dangerous hunters. Mac turned to the two feds.

“Here’s how this works,” he instructed. “Buffy’s got the lead. Period. You two are here to observe – nothing more.” As he spoke, a hard glint came to his eyes. O’Byrne didn’t look like a twenty-five year old smart-ass any longer. Buffy looked almost as bad – just as dangerous, but in a friendly sort of way.

One obvious killer. One friendly-looking killer. One extremely hazardous combination. Scully suddenly had no doubts at all that these two were capable of... ‘Maybe,’ she decided, ‘a better question would be-- what aren’t they capable of?’

Mulder was debating how long he and Scully would survive if he tried to stop them from doing whatever it was they planned to do. ‘Maybe if I had a SWAT team,’ he thought. ‘No, not SWAT. I need soldiers. Commandos.’ He studied the pair closely as they led he and Scully outside. ‘Yeah, commandos. Lots of them.’

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
Sunnydale Cemetery
2230, Monday (Local)

Mac had driven the four of them toward town. Once parked, they’d gotten out of the truck and started strolling down the street. During the drive, Mulder and Scully had each considered drawing down on the pair in front. Both had decided against it. Neither of them was eager to mix it up with the affianced couple.

Besides, they were both curious about what was going to happen next.

Once out of the Pathfinder, Scully noticed that Buffy wasn’t wearing her ring. Scully was sure she’d had it when they left the house.

“Buffy,” she asked, “where’s your ring?”

“Locked in the truck,” the girl answered. Buffy grinned. “It’s too pretty to wear on patrol.”

O’Byrne chuckled quietly. Buffy frowned at him, but even in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, it was apparent to Scully that the younger woman’s eyes were still smiling.

“Why is that funny?” asked Mulder “I see her point – that rock would attract every mugger for miles.” Mac winked at him as Buffy tried to stifle a giggle. Mulder wasn’t sure which surprised him more.

“We actually got mugged once, Mulder,” Buffy informed him. “I’d just as soon avoid going through that again.”

“The two of you are afraid of muggers?” asked Scully. Considering how they were armed...

“Not *of*, Dana,” corrected Buffy. “*For*.”

Scully and Mulder thought about that. Finally Mulder asked, “What happened to the guys who mugged you?”

Buffy threw a sharp look at her fiancé, who winced a little. But she smiled as she explained, “Mac heard the bugler sound the charge. The worst part was that we were on the way home. It took like, I don’t know, an hour, maybe? To get those guys to the hospital and sneak off with no one seeing us.”

Scully pondered that. The two of them had cared enough about street punks to take them to the hospital – but they were out cutting other peoples heads off? Something didn’t make sense about that. As the group neared a cemetery, she was trying to decide what was up with the two of them when both Mac and Buffy suddenly stiffened and stopped in their tracks.

Each reached under their coat and produced a sword.

‘Where the hell did those come from?’ Mulder wondered as he reached for his gun.

O’Byrne’s free hand lashed out and seized the agent’s wrist. Their suspect was focused on something across the street. Looking in that direction, Scully saw a man dressed in a long coat standing on the steps of a church. In a flash of insight, she wondered what the odds were that the new arrival had a sword under his coat, too.

“Polovsky?” Buffy asked Mac.

“Take care of them, Buffy,” said O’Byrne. Hiding his sword under his coat, he strode quickly across the street to confront the man on the church steps.

“Who the hell is Polovsky?” demanded Mulder.

“A god-damned butchering psychopath,” Buffy gritted out venomously. “And a dead man when Mac finds him.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged an incredulous look. This was getting more confusing by the second. Then an idea hit them both at the same time.

“This guy Polovsky been in San Francisco lately?” asked Mulder. Buffy shot him a look. She chewed her lip nervously for a second, then slowly nodded her head. “Mac thinks so,” she answered. Across the street, the two men were confronting one another. The man on the steps suddenly leaped down at O’Byrne, who spun out of the way and cut his attacker across the belly.

Mulder and Scully started to race across the street when Buffy pulled out her .38 and pointed it at them. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t let you interfere. Even if wasn’t against the Rules, you’d just get yourselves killed.”

‘Rules?’ wondered Mulder.

Mac strolled easily across the street, taking in everything around him.

With every step, his situational awareness increased. With every second, everything that made Mackenzie O’Byrne the good and decent man that had won Buffy’s love submerged a little farther from sight. By the time he reached his target, Mac was gone.

In his place stood Reaper – veteran of countless wars and campaigns dating back forty years. Years spent in the Legion, in Special Forces, leading strike teams against the Drug Cartels in Latin America... Years spent earning a reputation as the living personification of Death himself.

“Your name wouldn’t be Jan Polovsky, by any chance now, would it,” Reaper asked in a cheerful voice. Hearing the deceptive friendliness in his voice, anyone who knew the man asking the question would have ducked for cover. The fool standing on the church steps didn’t know that. Getting closer, Mac saw that it wasn’t Polovsky. Instead, it was some immortal he’d never seen before. Damn.

“’Fraid not,” he replied. “Name’s Michael Mitchell. Who’re you?”

“Reaper,” O’Byrne answered. ‘Shit! This really is Grand Central- fucking-Station!’ he cursed silently.

“Reaper, huh?” echoed Mitchell. “Cool name kid. You must be new to the Game. Most of us don’t go in for that kind of crap.”

“Passing through?” asked O’Byrne.

“Mostly. But I’ve got time for you,” answered Mitchell.

“Bad idea, Mr. Mitchell,” said O’Byrne politely. “We’ve got company across the street.”

“So?”

“*So*, Mr. Mitchell, we should defer this. Our Game isn’t for spectators,” Reaper reminded the newcomer.

“Yeah, but one of them is one of *us*. I’ll deal with the others,” taunted Mitchell as he drew his sword. Reaper stared at the man ‘Fool,’ raced though his head as Mitchell leaped at him.

Drawing his sword from beneath his coat, Reaper danced out of the other immortal’s path. A quick slash opened up Mitchell’s belly, causing him to gasp in pain. Reaper stepped back, rocked on his rear heel and stepped forward again. He brought his sword up over his shoulder and cut off Mitchell’s left arm with a short stroke.

Mitchell fell to his knees and stared at the stump where his arm had been a moment before. He was still staring at it, wondering why it didn’t hurt, when Reaper swung his Katana through Mitchell’s neck.

Across the street, still half a block away, Scully, Mulder and Buffy watched the battle between the immortals. When O’Byrne cut off the strangers arm, Scully gasped.

When O’Byrne decapitated his opponent, her heart seized up.

Mulder stared, shocked speechless, as O’Byrne murdered the other man.

Buffy’s heart had lurched when the stranger attacked Mac. Over the next seven seconds, she forgot to breathe. Despite seeing Mac – Reaper – in battle before, despite knowing how fantastic a warrior he was, she was still terrified for his safety. In the time she’d known him he hadn’t battled another of their kind. The fight, short and brutal, demonstrated to her why her man had so little fear of vampires and demons.

The beasts were amateurs.

Buffy wondered if the two feds had noticed how close the other man’s blade had come to Mac’s neck. She could’ve sworn it had grazed his shoulder as the other immortal passed. The stranger was good, she decided. Of course, the proof being in the pudding, Mac was better. He still had his head.

Mulder started again to cross the street.

“Wait, Mulder. It’s not over yet,” she stopped him. Mulder threw her an incredulous look.

“Not over?” he asked.

“Mulder!” gasped Scully. Mulder whipped his head back around. Though neither of the agents could know it, Buffy was seeing this for the first time as well. A mist rose out of the corpse and slithered over to O’Byrne as blue lightning started slithering around the two combatants.

“What the hell is *that*?” demanded Mulder.

“The Quickening,” answered Buffy.

The lightning danced. It touched on a nearby car, cranking it up and setting off the alarm before blowing out the headlights. Two nearby street lamps flared incredibly bright and exploded. The dead immortal’s corpse floated into the air and began to spin horizontally.

Mac was the focus of it all. The power of the Quickening ripped a tremendous scream from the victor as it battered him. Every sense was overwhelmed as he was wracked by indescribable pain and pleasure.

Though lasting less than a minute, it seemed to tear at the immortal for an eternity. Every thought, every experience, every feeling Mitchell had ever had forced its way into Mac.

Finally, battered and breathless, Mac dropped to the ground. It was over.

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
3245 Grove street
2310, Monday (Local)

Wracked by the Quickening, Mac huddled on the ground beside Mitchell’s lifeless remains. Feeling an approaching immortal, he struggled to his feet and tried to bring up his sword.

“Mac!” called Buffy.

‘Beloved,’ answered his mind. Mac couldn’t verbalize a response. It had been the biggest Quickening he’d experienced in twenty years.

Mitchell hadn’t been a novice. Stupid, yes, but no newbie. “Buffy,” he finally croaked. Then his love was by his side, trying to help him up. He shook his head at her. “We need to get gone – *now*,” he ordered.

“What the hell was *that*?” demanded Mulder.

Buffy took a deep breath. “Mulder, grab the dead guy. Dana, help me with Mac.” Seeing the two feds stand there with stricken looks, she ordered “*Now*, damn it!”

The two agents started. Scully moved to her side as Mulder examined their surroundings. “Buffy,” said Scully, “we need to get the police-"

Buffy whirled on her. “Do what the hell I tell you, and do it right now or so help me I’ll kill you myself,” she spat. Mac finally found his feet. He quickly centered himself.

“Scully, Mulder, you two have a choice,” Mac informed them. “Spend the rest of your lives wondering what just happened – or do what you’re told. Choose.” He turned to Buffy. “Honey, run back, get the truck. We’ll meet you halfway.”

Buffy looked at him for a second, then darted forward and kissed him. Turning on her heel, she raced off. Mac strode over to Mitchell.

Picking up his opponent’s sword he handed it to Scully. He retrieved his own sword and slipped it back under his coat. Then he bent over, snatched up the head and tossed it to Mulder, who reflexively caught it and grimaced in distaste. Finally, O’Byrne heaved the body over his shoulder and set off after Buffy.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Then they turned and followed O’Byrne.

In less than five minutes, Buffy pulled up in the truck. Mac heaved the corpse off his shoulder and onto a plastic sheet in the back of the truck. He took the head from Mulder and the sword from Scully and tossed them in the back as well. Then he slammed the hatch shut, turned to the agents long enough to say, “Get in,” and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where to?” asked Buffy.

“Head up Paladin and take us into the desert, sweetheart. We need to unload that dumb bastard in back.”

Over the next two hours, Mulder and Scully watched as O’Byrne buried the corpse, sprinkling some kind of powder over the body. A shift in the wind brought tears to their eyes – the powder was some kind of tear gas. “To keep the animals from digging him up,” O’Byrne commented to them when he saw the question on the faces of the two agents. When he finished, Buffy drove them back to the ‘Keep’ – which apparently, was what they called their house.

Once there, they all trooped inside. Mac slipped off his coat and shoulder rig, revealing a long tear along the left side of the shirt.

As O’Byrne picked up a phone and punched in a number, Scully picked up the coat and found an identical injury. Both the coat and O’Byrne’s shirt were spotted with drying blood.

“Either of you two speak French?” asked O’Byrne. Seeing them shake their heads, he started softly speaking in French to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“*Hunter? It’s Reaper. I just ran into an immortal named Michael Mitchell.*

“*No. He’s dead. Find out what you can on him, will you? I want to check what I got through his Quickening against your files.*

“*Thanks, Brother. By the way, we’ve got a new wrinkle. Call Joe and tell him the feds saw it all.*

“*He’ll explain it. Thanks, brother.*” Mac set the phone down in its cradle and sat in a comfortable- looking chair. Buffy walked in and handed him a cup of coffee. She perched on the arm of the chair and stroked his hair as he slipped an arm around her waist.

‘Dear god,’ she thought. ‘I almost lost him tonight.’

“We really want an explanation now, *Reaper*,” announced Mulder.

Mac frowned at Buffy. “It slipped out,” she apologized. After a moment, he shrugged and focused on the feds.

“I’ve heard some interesting things about the two of you,” Mac began.

The two agents exchanged a look.

“From who?” demanded Mulder.

“Later,” Mac demurred. “Right now here’s the thing. One of the things I heard is that you make your living exposing secrets. Right now, that’s not a very good thing for me to know.”

The threat in his voice was obvious. O’Byrne was deciding whether or not to kill them. Both agents silently evaluated their chances of drawing down on the man before he could carry out that threat. They were both armed and several feet away from the man. He was seated with a cup of coffee in one hand and his fiancé more or less in his way. Neither O’Byrne nor Summers were armed at the moment. And he’d been wounded. So they considered the odds.

Neither one wanted to try them. O’Byrne, sitting there comfortably, casually stroking the young woman’s hip, was undoubtedly the single most dangerous man either of them had ever laid eyes on. It was revealed in the way he moved, the way he walked. Even in the way he sat, seemingly – deceptively – relaxed.

Most of all, it was in his eyes.

Mulder was wondering if he was an alien. It would explain the light show.

Scully was deciding that the second most dangerous person she’d ever met was sitting on the arm of O’Byrne’s chair. It was a close second at that. The two of them together?

Forget it.

“So, the question, then,” continued O’Byrne, “is what the hell do I do about you?”

“You guys want some coffee?” Buffy asked. The incongruity of her question relaxed the tension. Mulder, the trained psychologist, was a half-second behind Scully in realizing she’d done that deliberately.

“Yes, please,” answered Scully. “Thank you.”

“Coffee sounds good,” agreed Mulder.

Buffy jumped up. “Don’t kill anyone,” she instructed Mac. He looked up at her. Buffy winked, bent over and kissed his forehead, then walked to the kitchen.

Mac and the agents stared at one another. In a few minutes, Buffy came back in with the coffee tray and served. That done, she went back and perched herself on the arm of Mac’s chair again. His arm returned to its place around her waist as hers returned to its place around his shoulders.

Earlier, when seeing them together, Scully had mused ‘young love’. Now she decided it was much deeper, much stronger than that. The man that had attacked O’Byrne had died easy. If he’d killed O’Byrne...

“I think you’re gonna have to tell them, honey,” Buffy said.

“Easier to-” Mac started.

“They’re not in the Game, Mac,” she cut him off. “They’re not vampires. Honey, they aren’t *evil*, and you know it.” O’Byrne considered that for a long moment. Buffy’s opinion obviously carried tremendous wait with the man. Mulder wondered if anyone else’s did. He had strong doubts. Still, O’Byrne needed a push.

“Convince me, Mr. O’Byrne, and we’ll keep your secret,” Mulder offered.

“Your life on that, Mulder? And yours, Miss Scully?” asked Mac. “*Both* your lives? Because that’s what we’re risking.”

“You’d better be pretty damn convincing,” stated Scully. Still, she knew she was mostly posturing. If O’Byrne decided not to trust them, he would kill them both. Not necessarily for his own sake.

He’d do it to protect Buffy.

“All right, then,” Mac began. “We’re immortal.”

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0015, Tuesday (Local)

‘Immortal?!’ Mulder shouted silently. ‘Hot damn!’

“Immortal?” Scully echoed his thought. “Define immortal.”

“We don’t age. Barring defeat in battle, there’s no telling how many hundreds – thousands – of years we’ll survive,” elaborated Mac.

“’Defeat in battle’? Like tonight at the church?” Mulder queried.

“Like tonight at the church, yes. What you saw was the Quickening. When I took that fool’s head, I took all his knowledge and power as well,” Mac further explained.

“You mean... You don’t mean you took his *soul*, do you?” demanded Scully.

“I don’t know. In a way, I suppose. Don’t feel sorry for him, ma’am. Judging from the power of his Quickening, I’d have to say he’d killed a busload of us over the years,” the immortal tried to reassure her.

“Like a pyramid effect?” guessed Mulder.

Mac nodded. “Very much so. Some of us actively hunt each other, striving to be the sole remaining immortal.”

“What would be the point of that?” the agent wanted to know.

“The point, Mulder, is the Prize. Enough power to rule the world forever.”

Scully paled. The implications were enormous.

Mulder asked, “You said ‘some of you’. What about you two?”

“I like his head right where it is, Mulder,” Buffy answered.

“Most of us just live our lives, Mulder,” added Mac. “Some of us – like Buffy – do our best to protect humanity.” Mac had considered – briefly – leaving Buffy’s status as an immortal a secret. But even if the agents didn’t figure it out on their own, Buffy would’ve had his hide for it.

They were a team.

“Protect humanity from what?” asked Scully.

“There are a lot of evils in the world, ma’am. Some friends of mine tried to kill Hitler sixty years ago.” Mac grimaced. “Of course, unfortunately, they failed.” He shrugged. “We’re immortal, but we’re human for all that. Not gods.”

“How old-” Mulder started.

Scully cut him off. “Do you have to keep calling me that?” she complained. Mac was starting to make her feel old. Buffy giggled.

“Don’t mind the geezer, here, Dana. He’s just being polite in his typically old-fashioned way,” she explained. Scully suspected it was something Buffy teased the man about on a regular basis.

“Almost sixty,” Mac answered Mulder’s unfinished question. “Buffy just turned twenty.”

Mulder’s jaw worked furiously. He was a little disappointed. “When you said ‘immortal’, I figured you were older than that.”

Mac chuckled and Buffy giggled again. “Some of us are. My teacher was almost three thousand years old.”

The sound of a dropped pin striking the floor would have been deafening.

“Three *thousand*?” Mulder echoed.

“One of the victims that brought you two out here. Finn Bonet?” Mac reminded them. “His name was Finn Mac Cuhill. He was once the Rig Fian of the Fianna Fail – Supreme Commander of the Irish Army. He was legendary – so much so that he passed into myth.”

“Didn’t Morgan Llewelyn write a book about him?” asked Scully. Being of Irish descent himself, her father had read everything he could get his hands on about ancient Irish myth and history.

Mac grinned. “Yeah. Finn loved her stuff. Claimed a lot of it was historically accurate. For context, that is.” His grin faded and his eyes grew hard again. “A psychopath named Jan Polovsky killed him. Right here in Sunnydale. That’s what brought me.”

“You plan to kill him yourself?” There was definite disapproval in Scully’s voice.

“What do you suggest he does, Dana?” Buffy demanded, defending her man.

“Have him arrested? Oh, there’s a good idea. ‘Yes, your Honor, this is the guy that killed the three thousand year old man. Oh, by the way, two hundred years ago, he raped and slaughtered all the nuns in a little abbey in Poland, too’,” she mocked, voice dripping sarcasm.

Scully and Mulder exchanged a meaningful look. ‘Raped and murdered’? Mulder’s guess about the serial killer in San Francisco had been right on – and barely scratched the truth.

“If this man Polovsky killed your friend, what makes you so sure you can take him?” asked Mulder.

“I think Polovsky had a little accidental help,” answered Mac.

“What help?”

Buffy sighed. “That would bring us back to the vampires,” she said.

“Vampires?” echoed Scully. She nearly forgotten about that.

“Vampires, immortals... Quite a little town you’ve got here. No wonder the first settlers called it the Hellmouth,” observed Mulder wryly.

Buffy suddenly yawned. Mac took a quick look at his watch. “I think that’s enough for tonight, folks,” he announced and stood up. Buffy leaned into him, her arm settling around his waist.

“But, the vampires-” began Mulder.

“It’ll keep until tomorrow, Mulder,” said Mac.

“What about your wound?” asked Scully. “I’m an MD. Let me take a look at it...”

Seeing the two immortals grin, Scully’s voice trailed off. “What wound, Dana?” asked Mac. Stepping closer to him, Scully’s hand reached out and gently pulled at the slash in his shirt. There was no evidence of any wound – just a few flakes of dried blood. “Oh, that,” remembered Mac.

“Like we said,” Buffy reminded her. “Immortal.”

Seeing the disbelieving look on Scully’s face, Mac sighed and disengaged himself from Buffy. He pulled off his shirt and handed it to his fiance. “It’s ruined anyway,” he said to her as he pulled a folding knife from his belt.

Mac opened the blade and cut deeply into his arm, gritting his teeth as he drove it through the meat and drew it up several inches toward his elbow. Buffy held the shirt under his arm as he pulled the knife back out. Scully took a step forward but stopped when Buffy glared. The young woman’s meaning was clear – no one was getting near her man right now.

Mulder moved up next to Scully and watched as O’Byrne held his arm out to them.

“Watch,” Mac instructed.

In a few seconds, little blue sparks started dancing along the length of both the entry and exit wounds. Fascinated, the two agents watched the wound close up and heal before their eyes. In seconds, O’Byrne was whole again. Not even a scar remained as evidence of the damage he’d inflicted on himself.

Mac cleaned the blood from his arm with the shirt.

“Do you guys want to stay here?” Buffy offered. “It’s pretty late.” And the two feds would be where the immortals could keep an eye on them.

She took Scully’s arm. “C’mon, Dana. I’ll show you guys your room.”

“Uh, Buffy... We’re not... That is we don’t... We’re *partners*, not...” her voice trailing off, Scully had no idea why she was suddenly so embarrassed. Half the Bureau thought she and Mulder we’re involved.

“Well, why not?” Buffy demanded. “Trust me on this Dana, life is short. Too short.”

“Thanks for the offer, Buffy, but we’ll-” began Mulder.

Mac cut him off. “We’ve got three spare rooms, Mulder. Considering where we are – and what you now know – I’d feel better if you spent the night.”

Buffy dragged Scully upstairs calling, “I’m gonna give here the big bed, Mac,” over her shoulder. The two women disappeared.

“Is she always so...” Mulder asked.

“You have no idea,” confirmed Mac. “C’mon, Mulder. I’ll show you to your room.”

Part 5

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0800, Tuesday (Local)

Scully woke up to hear a soft knocking at her door. She rolled out of bed and answered it. Because she was wearing only a T-shirt and panties, she kept herself mostly hidden as she opened the bedroom door.

Buffy was standing there, dressed in sweats soaked with...sweat. And holding a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she announced. “Mac’s making breakfast. I sent Mulder down to get your bag out of your car. Here,” she pushed the coffee through the door. “Shower’s down the hall. ‘Scuse me. Gotta run.” With that, the young woman vanished down the hall.

Scully sat down on the big bed and drank her coffee. The big empty bed. Buffy’s words from the night before had kept her awake a long time. What was keeping her and Mulder apart? Well ‘Mulder’ was part of the reason. ‘Mulder’ – not ‘Fox’. She liked the name ‘Fox’. More, she thought it appropriate.

Of course, part of the reason she thought so might be that she was in love with man. She wondered how he felt about her? Dana was never really sure on that score. What had Buffy said? Life’s too short? Great advice coming from an immortal.

“Scully?” Fox – Mulder – called from the hall. “I’ve got your bag.” Dana took a deep breath.

“Come in, Mulder,” she called out. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Dana regretted them. ‘I just woke up! I’m a mess! Shit!’

Too late now – Mulder walked in. And froze. Scully was sitting on the bed not wearing much of anything at all. A grin crawled over his face. Dana would’ve been rather pleased to learn that sitting there like that, dressed the way she was, she was fulfilling several of his fantasies. The beginning part anyway.

The two friends looked at one another. Both thinking the same thing – that the other didn’t see them as a possibility. It would have been poignant if it weren’t so pathetic.

“You know, Scully, I think I’ve had this fantasy,” Mulder teased.

From somewhere deep inside, Dana summoned every bit of courage she had.

“Shut up, Fox. Don’t move,” she ordered. Jumping up from the bed, Dana grabbed her bag. She quickly threw it down on the bed, ripped it open and grabbed her toothbrush and paste. She walked past him and out the door.

“I mean it – don’t move.” Dana repeated, and disappeared down the hall.

‘Fox’? Mulder repeated to himself. When he’d told her not to call him that – that he’d even made his parents call him ‘Mulder’ – he’d been trying to keep her at arms length. At the time, he’d felt a healthy amount of lust of her and didn’t want to compromise them. Since then he’d fallen head over heels in love with her.

Now her calling him ‘Fox’ hurt a little, because it was an intimacy coming from someone he knew he could never have. In a minute, Scully reappeared – teeth brushed and face washed – grabbed his arm, dragged him into the bedroom and kissed him deeply.

The world got a little wobbly for Mulder as he wrapped his arms around the gorgeous redhead and returned her embrace.

Finishing her shower, Buffy took a few minutes to pick out something pretty to wear and got dressed. Ready for the day, she headed out of the bedroom. Thinking to see if Dana needed anything, she walked down the hall to the guest room and glanced in the open door. Quietly, she pulled back, turned on her heel and went downstairs.

Mac was just finishing setting breakfast out on the kitchen table. Seeing Buffy’s happy face, he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Our guests may be a little late, sweetie,” she said.

“Why?”

Buffy shot him a coy look. “What’s our favorite thing to do?” she asked.

“Oh. Well I hope they’re quick. Breakfast’ll be cold.”

Buffy whacked his shoulder. “Be nice,” she scolded him.

When Scully and Mulder finally arrived in the kitchen, Mac pulled a tray from the oven. On it were two plates. He set them on the table.

“Careful,” he advised. “Plates’re hot.”

Sitting at the table was another dangerous looking man. He nodded at them. Scully and Mulder sat down and started to eat.

“Where’s Buffy?” asked Dana.

“School. She has a class at nine-thirty,” explained Mac. He gestured at the stranger. “This is Thomas Jager. Hunter, these are Agents Mulder and Dana Scully of the FBI.”

“Pleased to meet you,” rumbled Jager in a slightly accented voice.

O’Byrne had pronounced his name ‘Yager’. Between that and the accent, Mulder figured the man for a German.

“Are you...” Mulder’s voice trailed off.

“No,” answered Jager. “I’m a Watcher.”

Buffy had lunch with her mother, finished the day’s classes and headed home. Poor Mom was torn, Buffy decided, between being upset that her little girl was getting married and being excited about the wedding.

Which depressed Buffy a little.

She’d never get to go through things like that. ‘Course, that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Her mom had been through five or six kinds of hell raising Buffy. And just imagine having Mac for a dad! ‘Up and at ‘em son,’ she could picture. ‘Today we run fifty miles and do six zillion push-ups. Then, once we’re warmed up...’ The thought of it kind of gave her the giggles.

Once she got home, she saw Thomas’ Harley and Giles’ car parked in the driveway. Biting her lip, she carefully worked her way through the obstacles and parked her car. Once successful, she sighed in relief.

Giles probably wouldn’t notice a dent, but if she dinged Thomas’ bike, he’d be furious.

Buffy didn’t really get Thomas. Sure, she got the whole ‘Brothers of the Legion’ thing – kind of, anyway – but the Watcher seemed to practically worship Mac. In a strange, ‘old soldier’ kind of way. She liked the man, but sometimes she thought Thomas would be a lot happier if Mac just grabbed him and took off to invade a foreign country or something.

And the way Thomas treated her got on her nerves sometimes. He was almost too respectful. Buffy would’ve been shocked to learn why.

Thomas didn’t simply care for her because she was Mac’s lady – he thought she was nearly the perfect woman. He was, in fact, in awe of her in a way he never would be of Mac. Buffy had battled Hell’s minions from the time she was sixteen – Mac was just a regular kind of warrior.

Getting out of the car, Buffy immediately felt the ‘buzz’. Mac was home. Not only home, but waiting for her when she got to the door.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“Miss me?” she teased. Mac grinned.

“Every minute,” he answered.

Giles was in the living room explaining to Scully and Mulder about the Hellmouth, and their experiences there. When Buffy walked in, he stopped and stood up.

“Hello, Buffy. How was your day?” he asked politely. In many ways, Buffy was the daughter he’d never had. So it took him all of about a nanosecond to focus on her ring. “Should I assume congratulations are in order?”

Giles shot Mac a dirty look. The Watcher had been there for nearly two hours, and the immortal hadn’t mentioned a thing. Thomas looked nearly outraged. He started tearing into his friend in some very rude sounding French.

As Mac stood and patiently listened to Jager’s tirade, Buffy walked over and hugged Giles. She turned to Jager. “Thomas,” she said. Jager broke off and looked at Buffy.

“Listen, guys,” she explained. “I only told Mom. I wanted to get everyone together and have a little party, only, well, one thing sort of led to another, you know and, well...” her voice trailed away as Giles hugged his protégé again.

“I understand, Buffy. Congratulations. To both of you,” he added with a nod to Mac.

Jager stepped toward her and bussed her cheek with a chaste kiss. “Yes, Buffy. Congratulations.” He turned back to Mac. “As for *you*, *mon ami*-”

“Thomas, perhaps we should accept their apology. That way we can be here to watch the fur fly when Buffy and Mackenzie make the announcement to everyone else that might’ve expected to be told sooner rather that later,” Giles suggested with a teasing stab at their friends.

Jager gave in and grinned. In truth, he was as pleased as punch. He hasn’t believed Reaper had enough sense to marry the girl – certainly not so quickly. He walked over and embraced his friend. Giles offered his hand and clasped Mackenzie’s shoulder.

Dana and Mulder sat through all this, nearly forgotten. It suddenly hit Dana, that she and Fox were one of the ‘things’ that had come up.

Considering what Giles had been telling them, she figured that Buffy had had to learn to snatch at her happiness where she could. Until quite recently, at any rate.

And if Buffy hadn’t been immortal, she might well be dead. Had died, in fact – thus becoming immortal. She sighed – the girl would look young and pretty forever.

And never be able to have children - any more than Dana herself could thanks to the damn Consortium. And perfect strangers would show up from time to time trying to kill her.

And she had a destiny as the ‘Chosen One’ on top of that! Dana decided Buffy deserved to be young and pretty. And in love.

Certainly there was no doubt of that – the two immortals were head over heels in love with each other. She’d almost asked if Mac (when did she start thinking of him as ‘Mac’?) didn’t think he was moving a little fast when Giles revealed that he’d only met Buffy six weeks before.

Somehow, Dana hadn’t previously made that connection in her mind.

Now she was glad she’d kept her mouth shut. Mac and Buffy deserved to let their friends know the good news without the accidental interference of strangers.

Giles settled back down to continue his lecture as Buffy walked into Mac’s office to call up her friends and invite them to a party.

“Mac,” Scully interrupted. “A party? Now? With this psychopath Polovsky running around?”

The room froze up. Then Giles cleared his throat. “Miss Scully-” he began.

“Dana,” she corrected, surprising herself. She was usually so slow to open up with people – especially civilians. What was it about this bunch?

“Dana, then. Dana, Buffy and her friends have been fighting monsters for years. They grab at happiness where they can. Believe me when I say there is no hope at all that Mackenzie could derail this,” he explained.

Mulder was making observations of his own. ‘Mac’, ‘Reaper’, ‘Mackenzie’ – the psychologist in him was noting that O’Byrne’s relationships could be categorized by how he was addressed. With Rupert Giles, it was warm but proper. With Jager, it was the old soldier thing – it would be interesting to meet others who called him ‘Reaper’. ‘Mac’ seemed to be for general friendly acquaintance.

Except in Buffy’s case. Buffy addressed him according to her mood.

Pretty typical behavior for a woman to display with her mate, actually.

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1830, Tuesday (Local)

Buffy had insisted Dana and Mulder stay for her engagement party.

Apparently it was going to be a pretty informal affair – Buffy didn’t have a lot of close friends. Every one of them seemed to be a part of the ‘team’.

They tended to be young, too. There was a trio named Xander, Willow and Oz, with Willow turning out to be Buffy’s best friend. Oz and Willow were very much a couple, but Oz and Xander quickly gravitated toward O’Byrne (’Mac’, noted Mulder). A young woman named Amy showed up shortly after, immediately huddling with Buffy and Willow after greeting ‘Mac’. Buffy’s mother Joyce showed up, greeted ‘Mac’ and sat with ‘Rupert’ (O’Byrne was the only other one that called him that, Mulder noted). A couple friends of O’Byrne’s showed up shortly thereafter – a man and a woman. The man was named ‘Big Jim’ and wanted ‘Mac’ to talk about vampires – he seemed obsessed with the subject, even for this crowd (something personal there). The woman was named Constance and had never met ‘Mac’ before (’Mac’ was a general acquaintance rule).

Then Buffy’s father arrived. He had apparently only met ‘Mac’ once and didn’t care for him (small wonder – ‘Mac’ was obviously ‘you bastard’ in that man’s eyes).

Several dozen calls around the world from ‘Mac’, ‘Mackenzie, and ‘Reaper’ had been made. In every case a promise had been issued for a wedding invitation.

Buffy’s father put up the best front he could, but he was still the first to leave. Between his ex- wife, a roomful of near and complete strangers and ‘Mac’ (a.k.a. ‘you bastard’) the man was just too uncomfortable. Buffy walked him out when he left. The two of them stayed outside a while. When she returned, it was pretty obvious to all that the conversation hadn’t gone well. O’Byrne was an obvious – if clichéd – point of contention. Mulder wondered how Joyce dealt with it.

The apparent relief of everyone in the room following Dad’s departure was explained simply enough by Joyce and Giles – the poor man was the only one there who knew nothing about immortals, the Hellmouth or Buffy’s calling as the ‘Chosen One’.

Despite her father’s disapproval, Buffy (a.k.a. ‘Mistress of the Keep’) was soon back in good spirits. Mulder watched the news about Polovsky’s suspected arrival circulate. Everyone seemed to understand the danger. They also understood to run as fast as they could for ‘Holy Ground’ at the first sight of him and report that information (’intel’) to ‘Mac’ as quickly as possible. Even ‘Big Jim’ (who turned out to be another immortal – and three hundred years old!) agreed that ‘Mac’ should have first crack at the ‘psychopathic son of a bitch’.

Dana walked up to Mulder and goosed him. “Stop it, Fox,” she instructed.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently.

“Put that wonderful brain of yours in neutral and stop categorizing and filing every damn little thing!” Dana knew her man. “Mac wants to talk to you.”

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2030, Tuesday

Dana walked Mulder into Mac’s office. O’Byrne, Giles and Jager had apparently slipped away from the party – the three men were waiting for them. “Have a seat, Mulder,” instructed O’Byrne. Mulder sat.

Surprising him to no end – albeit pleasantly – Dana perched herself on the arm of his chair and looped her arm over his shoulder. He suspected it had little to do with seating availability.

‘Christ! Where has this X-File been?’ he wondered.

“All right, Mulder,” began O’Byrne. “Decision time. You’ve been briefed – you’ve both been briefed – on who we are and what we do. You possess more information than I, personally, have ever trusted someone with on such short notice. Where do you stand?”

“What do you mean, Mac?” asked Dana.

“He means, my lady,” answered Jager, “what do you intend to do with that information?”

“You’ve met us. You know what we do,” added Giles. “You know about Buffy. It is fair, we think, to ask your intentions.”

Mulder had been seriously considering that question for almost twenty- four hours. “Polovsky has to be stopped,” he said.

“Yes, he must be,” agreed Giles. “Can you stop him?”

Mulder had been considering that as well. The only way to stop him meant cutting his head off. Even if the immortal was somehow arrested, confined... Mulder knew all too well that certain agencies both inside and outside the government would grab him. The real question was what they would do with him.

If that cigarette-smoking son-of-a-bitch got his hands on an immortal...

And what would happen if there was no Buffy? Well, sure, if she died another Slayer would be called. Would she be nearly as adequate? Or would she be just the latest in a string of children going back centuries who was slaughtered by demons? Mulder was curious why he was so quick to accept the claims of this group – they bordered on the fantastic.

Of course, Mulder had quite a bit of experience in dealing with the unbelievable.

What about the immortals and their ‘Game’? Well, if exposed, who was most likely to survive the manhunt? A few like O’Byrne, maybe. And a shitload like Polovsky. Those like the Cancerman. One of them would win this ‘Prize’. Then the world really would be in for the shitstorm of all time.

“No,” Mulder answered. “I can’t.”

“Then you’d best leave it to Reaper, don’t you think?” suggested Jager.

The only problem there was that Mulder was all too aware that ‘Reaper’ had been perfectly prepared to kill both he and Dana. He might be heroic, but he was a heroic bastard with the conscience of a chainsaw.

Still, all the people out in the living room obviously liked and trusted him – even the woman whose daughter’s cradle he’d robbed.

Considering how easily O’Byrne could have killed him, maybe it was a point in the man’s favor that he hadn’t.

Mulder was trained to judge men’s characters accurately. He had years of experience doing just that – and doing it well. While he never wanted to get on O’Byrne’s ‘enemies list’ – which, all things considered, probably tended to stay rather short – Mulder knew the man was a walking, talking, living, breathing *hero*. With lots of friends just like him.

Friends that, on the one hand, would avenge him. And who, on the other, would drop everything and race to his side if called.

Mackenzie O’Byrne might just be the ally Mulder and Scully needed. To make an ally of the man, he needed to do more than keep his secrets.

“No, I don’t,” responded Mulder.

“Damn it, man-” Giles began. O’Byrne cut him off by lifting his hand and signaling ‘Halt’.

“What are you offering, Mulder?” asked Reaper. “And what’s the price?”

Buffy pulled her head out of a steadily more giddy conversation about weddings with Willow, Amy and her mother to notice that Mac was AWOL.

Along with Giles, Thomas, Dana and Mulder. Big Jim and his date – a woman he’d saved from a vampire in San Diego a couple weeks before – were ‘looking at weapons’ in the basement, she knew. Xander and Oz were in the TV room scarfing down junk food and watching the Playboy Channel on the big screen, but everyone else had disappeared.

She excused herself from the girls and headed for Mac’s office. She quietly opened it and slipped inside.

“So you’re claiming that an evil extra-governmental agency is planning to – no, conspiring with – aliens to conquer the planet?” asked Giles. “Agent Mulder, I find that rather hard to believe,” he scoffed.

“Rupert, you’re sitting in a room with an immortal and a Vampire Slayer,” Mac said as Buffy perched herself on the arm of his chair.

She winked at Dana. “*You’re* going to scoff at this?”

That pretty well shut Giles down. “Well, yes. Mackenzie. I see your point.”

“But, Reaper, why would they do it?” asked Thomas.

“Why does any power-mad lunatic ally himself with demons, Hunter? Or try to conquer a neighboring nation? Or,” he suggested pointedly, “try to exterminate an entire race of people?”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“’Why’ doesn’t matter,” Mac added. He turned to Mulder. “All right, Mulder. You help us – Polovsky comes first. He’s here, he’s probably coming for me or Buffy and I can deal with him *now*. Then we’ll help you. I’ll call my friends and we’ll shut these motherfuckers down,” he finished.

“Shut who down, honey?” asked Buffy. Mac was wound tight as a spring.

Whatever it was that Mulder had told him about, Mac was furious. He reminded her of the night he’d decided to wage war on the vampires.

He’d ‘called his friends’ then, too – in a week they’d killed more than a hundred of the beasts, virtually exterminating the local population.

“Bad guys, sweetie. Soon to be deceased bad guys,” Mac answered.

Part 6

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St

Buffy groaned as her eyes fluttered open and focused on the clock. It had been a long night. She turned in Mac’s arms and faced him. His eyes were open and staring into hers. The lovers traded a soft kiss.

Then Buffy forced herself out of bed. As she stumbled toward the bath, Mac’s voice rang out quietly, “Now there’s a beautiful sight.”

Buffy turned and looked at Mac. All of a sudden she felt a little self- conscious about her nudity. Blushing a really pretty shade of pink, Buffy crossed her arms over her breasts and turned in profile – unintentionally striking a provocative pose. Mac leaped out of bed, crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her. He began to draw her back to bed, but Buffy shook herself loose.

“Hey, Tarzan. Jane have class, remember?”

“Can I carry your books?” asked Mac with a grin.

Buffy smiled at her fiance. “No, honey. I’ve really got to go – provided, that is, you ever want to see me graduate.”

“Well, fine then,” Mac teased her with a wink. “Wash your own back, missy.”

Buffy gazed at him with an evil glint in her eye, then walked up and nuzzled his neck. “Tell you what,” she promised, “You get rid of our new friends, and I’ll put on my cheerleader outfit when I get back.”

Mac stroked her hair and whispered in her ear, “Tease.” Buffy giggled.

Mac walked into the kitchen and found Mulder and Scully brewing coffee.

“You kids are up, I see,” he greeted them.

“Morning, Mac,” Dana smiled. Her red hair was a bit tousled, and overall she looked tired.

‘Not bad looking for first thing in the morning, though,’ observed Mac. ‘Not *Buffy*, but not bad.’

Mulder looked as if he’d been hit by a truck. “Morning, Mac,” he said tiredly.

Mac quickly made breakfast. In a few minutes, Buffy made an appearance, scarfed down some food, gave her fiancé a kiss and darted out the front door. The moment she was gone, the phone rang.

“Hello?” Mac answered it.

“*Mac, Duncan. Can you pick up Joe and me at LAX this afternoon?*” Macleod’s voice asked.

“Duncan! Sure, pal. What’s bringing you two down here?”

“*Joe and I figured you might need some help with your ‘visitors’,*” answered the older immortal. “*Besides, we wanted to see Buffy. At the rate you two are going, we thought you might slip off and get married before you remembered to send out the invitations.*” Duncan teased.

“Oh, ha, ha,” replied Mac. “What time’s your flight due in?”

“*Three-thirty. Gate C-23.*”

“I’ll be there, my friend. Until then,” finished Mac. He hung up the phone and looked at the agents. “Company’s coming,” he explained.

Scene 2
L.A., Ca.
Los Angeles International Airport
1515, Wednesday (Local)

When Joe Dawson and Duncan Macleod walked out of the causeway and into the terminal, they found Mac waiting for them. The three friends shook hands and embraced warmly.

“Where’s Buffy?” asked Joe.

“Wednesday, Joe,” explained Mac. “Her last class didn’t get out ‘till three. I called her at lunch and let her know you guys were coming. She’ll be at the Keep when we get back.”

The group was quiet as the visitors retrieved their bags and the three men went out to the truck and began the trip to Sunnydale. Once on the way, Mac explained the events of the last three days.

“So you think Polovsky is here?” asked Duncan. “In Sunnydale?”

Mac nodded an affirmative. “That’s what my gut tells me. Of course, it might have been that idiot Mitchell I passed on the highway.”

“Or another immortal entirely,” pointed out Joe.

Mac nodded again. “Yeah, but, like I said, my gut says ‘Polovsky’.”

“Then you think he’s coming for you?” asked Duncan.

“Yeah,” answered Mac. “Maybe Buffy, too. Although I think it unlikely. She’s too new. If Polovsky had known about her before...”

The implication was obvious to Macleod and Dawson. Polovsky would have jumped at the chance to ‘enjoy’ Buffy. Until Mac had come to town, Buffy hadn’t know she was an immortal – ergo, she wouldn’t have known how to kill one. Despite her abilities, Polovsky would have had the upper hand the whole way.

“So, what really brings you two down here?” asked Mac.

Duncan turned in his seat to share a look with Joe, sitting in back.

“Have you ever heard of a ‘Dark Quickening’?” he asked Mac.

“No,” the younger man answered. “What’s that?”

“We – the Watchers – used to think it was a myth,” answered Joe. “Now we know it can be very real.”

“It?” prompted Mac.

“Did you ever meet Darius?” queried Duncan.

Mac nodded. “Yeah. Hell of a man. I heard someone got him.”

“Yes. Hunters – renegade Watchers, bent on destroying us all,” confirmed Duncan. Hearing that, Mac shot a look at Dawson in the rear-view mirror. The Watcher looked chagrined. “Fanatic splinter group, Mac. Pretty much all dead, now,” Joe explained.

“*Pretty* much?!” exploded the veteran. Mortals that new about them – and how to kill them... Shit! How in hell could he and Buffy protect themselves from *that*? And he’d thought the idea of the Watchers – recording their immortal lives – was a pretty good one. Christ – if Hunter had been one of them...

“Yeah, pretty much,” agreed Duncan. “But that’s not the issue right now. We need to warn you about the Dark Quickening, Mac.”

Mac chewed that over. “All right,” he finally said. “Tell me.”

Buffy was practically hopping. Jager and Giles had come over, each eager to see the two incoming visitors again. Buffy had drafted their help straightening the place up. Not that it needed it, reflected Scully. Buffy and Mac – mostly Mac, probably – kept a clean house.

Jager had been further assigned to ‘Go do that barbaric man-thing out back’ by Buffy. Which turned out to be skewering and roasting a tremendous slab of meet over an open barbecue pit.

Mulder had spent a lot of the day in Mac’s office, reviewing his library. Buffy had reluctantly allowed that, but only with the strict instruction not to touch anything but the books. Apparently the office was Mac’s space and Buffy didn’t want anyone disturbing it. The longer she was around the affianced immortals, the deeper Dana’s appreciation for their relationship grew.

It surprised her a little that Buffy didn’t summon her younger friends.

After a while, she figured out why. Buffy wanted a chance to greet ‘Joe’ and ‘Duncan’ privately before calling up the rest of her extended family. Giles and Jager were there because they had their own connections to the incoming guests.

Besides, Scully decided, this was probably Buffy’s first chance to be the hostess for dear friends in an adult setting. It was kind of charming.

Shortly after five, the Buffy walked through the living room and opened the front door. Mac and two men were walking up the steps to the front porch. The house had thick walls, and Scully hadn’t heard Mac’s truck pull up – how had Buffy known they were back?

Seeing the question on her face, Giles explained, “Immortals can sense one another. It’s how they prepare themselves for what they may face.”

Mulder and Scully traded a look, remembering how Mac and Buffy seemed to have known that Mitchell was nearby a few nights before.

Apparently, they had known. Damn.

Buffy gave Mac a quick kiss, then squealed, “Joe, Duncan!” and gave both men a big hug. Each of the men returned her embrace warmly.

Mulder noted the friendliness of the group, while Dana practically basked in the warmth.

‘Who are these people?’ she wondered, looking around the room at the men and Buffy. ‘I didn’t think there were any heroes left in the world, yet here they are.’

Buffy brought Duncan and Joe over to the two agents. “Joe, Duncan, Dana, Mulder,” she introduced them.

The four strangers contemplated one another for a long moment. Finally, Duncan offered his hand and Joe quickly followed suit, saying, “Walter Skinner speaks highly of you.”

Mulder and Scully stared at the bearded man, leaning on a cane. So, this was Skinner’s ‘source’.

“Where did you meet A.D. Skinner, Joe?” asked Dana.

“Viet Nam. We served together in the Corps before *this*,” the Watcher explained as he thumped the cane against one of his legs. The strike produced a sharp smacking sound – Joe’s legs were prostheses.

“How...” Dana began. She let her voice trail off, not wanting to be intrusive.

“Stepped on a land mine.” Joe shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. It led to my involvement with the Watchers. Sometimes life works out in strange ways.”

Mulder was aghast. “*Skinner* knows about immortals?” he demanded.

Joe shook his head. “Not unless you’ve told him.”

Everyone quickly settled down after that. With Buffy playing hostess, the feds and the Watchers began to exchange information. It had surprised Mulder to learn that Giles was from an entirely different group of ‘Watchers’ and that the two groups hadn’t known about one another until recently.

Giles’ group was less than pleased with what they’d learned, but any action they might have taken was forestalled by a couple of guys – another immortal friend of Buffy and Mac named Jean-Paul Deblout and Deblout’s Watcher – on separate visits. Deblout had offered them a quick death. His Watcher had offered an exchange of information.

Mulder wondered which of the two had been more convincing.

At any rate, Dawson’s Watchers had assigned a liaison to Giles’ superiors and an uneasy truce was in effect. Probably a good thing all around, Mulder decided. Giles’ group had just picked up some very effective allies in their battle against evil. And they got to live.

The agent had no doubt that this Deblout wouldn’t have hesitated to kill them all – immortals tended to be very comfortable when dealing out violence.

And now Giles had one hell of a lot of influence with his superiors.

Not only was his Slayer immortal – and involved with another immortal who was particularly dangerous in his own right – but Giles was also the key element connecting the immortals and the Council. In recent weeks, the vampire population in Southern California and around Paris (Deblout and friends at work) had been annihilated. Hope was daring to raise its head in the Council.

Buffy walked out on the porch and found Mac in his usual pose – deep in his favorite chair, feet kicked up on the rail and a bottle of beer resting in a bucket of ice beside him. Her honey looked to be deep in thought.

Buffy walked over to him, sat down in his lap and snuggled against her man as he wrapped his arms around her and softly kissed the top of her head.

“Penny?” she asked.

Mac was giving the subject of Dark Quickenings a lot of thought. Would it happen to him? If – when – he took Polovsky’s head, would it turn him as a Dark Quickening had once turned Duncan? Would he hunt Buffy just as Duncan had hunted his own friends?

He was also wondering what to tell Buffy.

“Mac and Joe are here in case I find Polovsky,” he explained. Buffy got the truth, he decided. Always.

“What do you mean?” she asked, tensing up.

“There’s a danger of something called a ‘Dark Quickening’. It happened to Duncan, once. Couple of years ago, he killed an immortal so overcome with evil that it drowned the goodness within him. Made him evil.”

Buffy felt her heart start to hammer as Mac continued. “It can work both ways. Remember me telling you about my friend Darius? That he killed an immortal monk at the gates of Paris and suddenly decided to disband his army and spare the city?”

Buffy nodded. Darius had been a barbarian warrior bent on the conquest of Europe early in the first millennium. She’d wondered why he’d changed his mind.

“Well,” Mac continued, “apparently, the Quickening of the monk he killed drowned the darkness within him. That’s what changed him.”

“So, killing an evil immortal can make you go bad?” she asked fearfully. Buffy knew full well that Mac was bent on killing Polovsky. Finn Mac Cuhil’s Quickening hadn’t turned Polovsky into a good guy. That butcher practically personified evil.

Mac nodded. “Like I said, it happened to Duncan.”

“But Duncan isn’t evil,” Buffy contradicted him.

“No, not now. But he was. He started hunting and killing his friends. Immortals he’d know for centuries.” Buffy started to shiver. If Mac killed Polovsky...

“Are you saying you might come for me?” she asked quietly.

Mac paused for a long moment. The silence was pregnant with morbid possibilities. Finally, he answered, “Joe and Duncan think it’s a possibility. After what happened to Duncan, another immortal captured him and took him to a holy spring. Somehow it cured him.

“Our friends are here in case Polovsky’s Quickening turns me. To try and do the same for me,” he finished.

“’Try’,” echoed Buffy. “You mean it might not work?”

Slowly, Mac nodded his head. “There are no guarantees, no.”

“But you have to face him anyway?” Buffy asked. “Why can’t we catch him, encase him in cement and drop him in the middle of the ocean?”

Mac smiled down at the young woman who had captured his heart. “Finn’s Quickening, Buffy. I won’t have that lost.”

Buffy settled her head against Mac’s chest as tears formed in her eyes.

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
Sunnydale Central Park
2030, Wednesday (Local)

Buffy and Dana strolled through the park. Mac, Duncan and Mulder were several hundred feet in their wake ‘pulling drag’. As they walked, Dana wondered what was bothering the younger woman. Finally, tired of the ominous silence, she asked.

“Buffy, what’s wrong?”

Buffy looked at Scully, wondering what to tell her. She sighed. “Duncan and Joe came down here in case Mac finds Polovsky...”

As Buffy revealed the worries of the other immortals and their Watchers, Scully grew progressively paler.

“This ‘cure’,” she asked at last. “It’s worked before?”

“Yeah, but Mac and Duncan are different. Duncan is kind of an overgrown boy scout and he’s been around for four *centuries*,” Buffy explained. “Mac is very in tune with his dark side. He uses it when he fights. Hell, I think he uses it when he *cooks*. He’s been involved in a lot of bad stuff over the years.”

“Tell me,” instructed Dana.

As Buffy told Dana about Mac’s history, the agent’s heart started hammering in her chest. Five years in the French Foreign Legion, most of it spent in Viet Nam and Algeria. Three more years spent in Viet Nam with US Army Special Forces. Another six years spent on and off in Latin America, fighting in Reagan’s drug war. Counter-terrorist operations all over the planet, working for the CIA, British MI-6, the Israeli Mossad...

Five decades spent studying martial arts. Everything from Aikido to Philippine stick-fighting to something called Wun Hop Kwen Do.

Nearly thirty battles with other immortals – almost always to the death.

And now his campaign against the vampires.

Dana Scully understood Buffy’s concern. But maybe the young immortal had missed something. “Buffy, maybe his comfort with darkness is a help. Duncan spent his life as a – what did you say? Overgrown boy scout?”

Buffy nodded and gave Dana a sad smile. “Well,” Scully continued. “Mac has spent his life swimming with the sharks. Maybe he can channel evil better than Duncan can.”

Buffy suddenly looked hopeful. “Do you really think so?” she pleaded. One person she’d loved – Angel – had turned evil. Buffy didn’t think she could handle losing Mac the same way. She still had nightmares about being forced to kill Angel.

Losing Mac would destroy her.

Behind them, the men were discussing the Consortium. Despite dealing with vampires, immortals and even a demon named Ahriman, Duncan was proving a bit skeptical.

“Pardon me, Duncan,” taunted Mac. “But doesn’t the name ‘Hitler’ mean anything to you? If memory serves, Connor helped liberate one of that bastard’s concentration camps. Hell, you tried to assassinate the sack of shit yourself,” the younger immortal pointed out.

“The Consortium I can buy, Mac,” countered Duncan. “It’s the part about aliens that I’m having a problem with.”

“I’ve seen them, Macleod,” asserted Mulder. “Believe me – they’re real.”

“*Duncan*!” Mac suddenly hissed quietly. O’Byrne was staring at something off in distant shadows.

Macleod saw it, too, apparently. “Got it,” he answered.

Mulder had no idea what the two immortals were looking at. Until he saw Buffy racing across the park at whatever had caught the other men’s attention.

Buffy had seen the beast, all right. She’d also seen what it was carrying.

“C’mon,” she ordered Dana. “*Quietly*,” she added. Suddenly, Buffy was gone. Dana stared at the young woman’s retreating form for a moment before racing in pursuit.

As she chased after the Slayer, Scully saw the three men looking in the direction Buffy was running. They raced to close with her.

Buffy hit the vampire with a flying kick. The beast dropped its burden – a young child – as it slammed back into a tree. Pulling a stake out with either hand, Buffy stepped forward and kicked the vampire in the face. It snarled at her as she darted forward and slammed a stake through each shoulder.

Its howl was cut off when Buffy punched it in the throat. Drawing her pistol, the Slayer shot the beast through both knees. She had the silenced .38 leveled at its face when the men arrived. Seeing that his fiancé had things well in hand, Mac crouched down next to the boy.

“Still breathing, sweetie,” he reported just as Scully joined the group. Mac pulled a squirt gun from his coat pocket and squirted it in the child’s face. The boy blinked his eyes.

“Who, who, who’re you?” stuttered the boy.

“The cavalry, son,” answered Mac. “You’re going to be okay. What’s your name?”

“B-B-Billy. I w-want to go ho-home,” cried the child.

“Okay, Billy. We’ll take you home.” Scooping up the boy, Mac called out to Buffy. “Make it quick, honey.”

Once her man had taken the boy far enough away, Buffy went to work on the vampire. She handed her pistol to Duncan. “Cover me,” she ordered. Macleod nodded. Buffy reached out and broke both of the vampire arms.

“That was to get your attention fang boy. I want to know where your friends are – *now*,” she emphasized.

Mulder and Scully watched the quick, brutal interrogation of the hissing thing staked to the tree. After about two minutes, Buffy drew another stake and shoved through the vampires heart. It exploded into dust with a soft *poof*. Without a second look, the Slayer spun on her heel, retrieved her pistol from Duncan and pulled out her cell phone.

“Giles, it’s Buffy.

“Yeah, we found one. It had a little boy.

“No, the kid’s fine. Listen, it volunteered some info.”

‘”Volunteered”?’ thought Mulder.

‘Oh my god!’ thought Dana. ‘We were worried about *Mac*?’

“Yeah, we’re gonna get the kid home and head for the nest,” continued Buffy. “I’ll check in later. Bye,” finished the Slayer. Putting away her phone, Buffy looked at the two agent’s expressions. “What?” she demanded.

“You’re pretty...efficient,” observed Dana cautiously.

“She’s had a lot of practice over the years,” pointed out Duncan.

“I staked a vampire once,” interrupted Mulder. “*It* didn’t go *poof*.”

Buffy shot the man a look. “Then you didn’t do it right, Mulder. Let’s go.”

The four of them reached the entrance to the park just as Mac pulled up in the truck. The boy was sitting in the front seat, so Buffy lifted him up, slid in and set the boy on her lap.

“Drive carefully, honey,” she teased Mac. He nodded. The boy wasn’t out of danger yet, not sitting perched on an adult’s lap in the front seat of a moving vehicle. “Hey, Billy. Why don’t you tell us where you live?” she gently coaxed the child.

As he gave directions as best he could – the kid couldn’t have been more that five or six years old – he clutched Buffy tightly.

Pulling up in front of what was hopefully the kid’s house, Mac leaned over and whispered to him, “Don’t be getting any ideas there, son. The lady’s spoken for.” Mac winked at the kid and Billy giggled.

Buffy whacked Mac gently across his chest. “Be nice,” she teased, causing Billy to giggle again.

“Wait here,” Mac ordered the passengers as he, Buffy and Billy climbed out.

“They’re good with kids,” observed Dana. “It’s too bad...” She left the rest of the sentiment unspoken. None of the group would be having children of their own. In Mulder’s case, that was because Dana couldn’t, but still...

“Yeah,” agreed Duncan. “Which is kind of strange.”

“Why’s that?” asked Mulder.

“Because Mac doesn’t really care for children. Must be Buffy’s influence,” Duncan explained.

After a few minutes, the couple in question returned to the truck. “I don’t care, Mac!” Buffy was saying angrily. “They’re the ones that let Billy out to play. They should be keeping a better eye on him! They’re his parents!”

“Granted, they could’ve handled that a little better, honey, but-” he replied as he started the truck.

Oblivious to the amused curiosity of Mulder, Dana and Duncan, Buffy cut Mac off. “I’ll say they could’ve handled it better!”

“Guys!” interrupted Dana. “What happened?”

“They were a little upset that Billy left the yard-” Mac started.

“They started yelling at Billy!” Buffy cut her fiancé off again. “Like it’s his fault that some vampire snatched him?”

“Still, sweetie,” scolded Mac. “Offering to rip the guys lungs out was a little much, don’t you think?” Buffy folded her arms and glared at him.

“You told his parents about the vampire?” asked Mulder.

“No. We said that we saw a gang-banger dragging Billy through the park. I doubt Billy will realize any different,” answered Mac.

“Why not tell them the truth?” asked the fed.

“Oh, right, Mulder. ‘Hi, folks! I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. We just rescued your son from a blood- sucking fiend from Hell!’,” mocked Buffy. “Yeah. Keen idea. *Not!*”

“No one would believe us, Mulder,” counseled Mac a bit more soberly. “No one wants to know the truth. Trust me on this.”

Mulder and Scully traded a look, remembering their reception from the Police Chief. The immortals had a point.

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
1210 Parker Dr
0500, Thursday (Local)

Scully and Mulder waited in Mac’s Pathfinder. Leaning against the truck, Jager cradled a shotgun. Giles and Dawson had been ordered to wait back at the Keep while the Slayer led her small strike team against the new nest. Jager had been allowed to come along to keep the feds out of trouble. Apparently, the Watcher was used to baby sitting duties. His usual station during a hunt was driving the Pathfinder, loaded with weapons and some of Buffy’s friends, all of them on post as a reserve.

The three immortals had disappeared almost half an hour before, positioning themselves for the strike. Even if they hadn’t been told, Mulder and Scully would have easily picked up that the group were experienced at what they were doing.

“Don’t like being left behind, Jager?” asked Mulder.

The Watcher shook his head. “No, I don’t. I understand it, but I don’t like it. Still,” Jager reluctantly allowed, “I can’t fault Reaper’s tactics. We all come home.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” began Mulder. “What’s with the guns? I’d have thought they’d be kind of useless against vampires.”

Jager gave him an evil grin. “That’s because you don’t know what they’re loaded with,” he said. “We modified a bunch of hollow-point ammo, filled it with garlic and holy water. The round practically explodes after penetration. For a vampire, it’s one painful way to die. Of course, you have to get them in the heart to actually kill them. Otherwise, it’s just excruciating torment.”

The two agents remembered Buffy kneecapping the vampire in the park and traded a look. The Slayer could be stone cold when she wanted to be.

“We just got in a load of .38 wooden slugs. Haven’t had a chance to try them in the field yet,” added Jager.

“And the shotgun?” asked Scully.

Jager racked the gun and caught the ejected round. He handed it over.

Mulder examined the short, sharp stake. Scully looked over his shoulder and asked, “Doesn’t the tip get blunted in the gun?”

“Not enough to affect performance. Effective tools, but you’ve got to be *close*. Ballistics on these toys are for shit,” explained the veteran.

“I presume you’ve...’tested’ this equipment before?” asked Mulder.

Jager nodded again. “Yeah. When we’ve got something new, Reaper and Buffy select a...*test subject*. They’ve got a cage in the basement back at the Keep.”

Scully shuddered. “For vampires?” she asked.

“Yes and no. The cage does double duty as Oz’s holding pen.”

“Why would Oz need a holding pen?” asked Mulder.

Jager smiled. “’Cause he’s a werewolf,” he answered. “Ah, they’re back.” Mulder’s mind was reeling. Werewolf?! Scully looked up at the approaching warriors – for warriors they were, she no longer had any doubt of that. And there were more of them spread out all over the place around the world. Why was that oddly comforting?

Upon returning to the Keep, the group trudged inside to report in to Giles.

“How many?” asked the Watcher.

“Five,” answered Mac. “I worked on one for a few minutes. This nest wasn’t connected to anyone else here. Learned something interesting though,” he added with a smile. Buffy giggled and Duncan chuckled.

“What was that?” Giles asked.

“It seems,” answered Duncan, “that the word is out in the vampires’ ‘community’ that Sunnydale is an unhealthy place to be. The ‘Greatest Slayer in history’ *and* her ‘mate’ are getting a reputation as being unstoppable.”

“The vampires we just dealt with thought it was bull,” added Mac.

“Foolish of them,” observed Giles with a small smile.

Dana noted that all of them looked rather pleased with themselves.

Especially Buffy – the part about her ‘mate’ seemed to just tickle her pink. And, curiously, Mac didn’t seem to mind being referred to as a virtual appendage. Apparently, being the ‘Slayer’s *mate*’ was something that agreed with him.

Of course, it was an accurate description. Buffy was the Slayer and Mac was definitely her mate.

‘Vampires beware,’ Scully thought.

Part 7

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0800, Thursday (Local)

Sitting in the shade of a boulder half a mile away from O’Byrne’s house, Polovsky watched O’Byrne’s woman drive away. Through the high- power telescope, the immortal thought the girl looked tired. Young, too.

‘So,’ he thought to himself. ‘O’Byrne likes them young. We have something in common!’

The immortal continued to watch. After a while, he sat bolt upright.

O’Byrne and another immortal entered the back yard and began to fence. Polovsky new the second man was an immortal because he recognized him.

Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod.

Shit! Polovsky hadn’t seen that bastard in over a hundred years. Where had it been? Oh, yes. The Pacific Northwest – 1868. Neither of them had been looking for a fight. No, that wasn’t quite right.

Macleod had been hunting an immortal named Kern. Something about Macleod’s woman being murdered, if he remembered right. Judging that the other immortal wasn’t someone he wanted to tangle with right then – Macleod had clearly been on the warpath – Polovsky had slipped away.

He’d heard a lot about Macleod over the years since. About the *Macleods*, plural. Duncan and Connor. Each had a considerable reputation. Connor had taken out the Kurgen back in – what? ‘85, ‘86? The Kurgen was no joke, either.

Polovsky recalled that both of the Clansmen had been summoned by O’Byrne the month before to deal with the vampires. Just two among a half-dozen of the formidable immortals that O’Byrne had called.

What in hell was Macleod still doing here?

After a while, three other men came outside. A cripple, a bookish looking sort and a man who was clearly a soldier. They sat and drank coffee as the immortals sparred. ‘Mortals,’ decided Polovsky.

Macleod and O’Byrne traded blows faster and faster. Judging by their styles, Polovsky decided they both liked short, close fights. Seeing Macleod leap into the air and somersault over O’Byrne’s head, with O’Byrne practically levitating and spinning to meet the new attack, Polovsky amended his thought. They might prefer the close fight, but the two immortals were flexible as hell on the subject.

Two more joined the coffee klatch – a man and a woman. After a while, the two immortals ceased their exercise and joined the group. The newest arrival – the man – apparently asked O’Byrne to spar with him.

Another immortal? No – they didn’t use swords. O’Byrne was working with the man, showing him some unarmed combat techniques.

Polovsky snorted a short laugh. Aside from Macleod, O’Byrne had surrounded himself with *mortals*. What was he training them for? Of course! To hunt vampires. Obviously that was becoming a long term project for the immortal.

After a bit longer, the mortal soldier went inside and retrieved some weapons. Polovsky carefully shifted to stay in the shadows as the sun climbed higher in the sky and watched the group below set up targets.

The weapons were mostly pistols fitted with silencers. But there was one very large caliber sniper system as well. Polovsky judged that it had to be a .50 – it was much to large to be anything else. The soldier was explaining something about the rifle to the man and woman who’d come out last. When he finished that, he started in on the pistols. Polovsky wondered if O’Byrne seriously intended to fire the monster weapon.

No, he decided. Just the suppressed pistols. Every one of them – even the cripple – turned out to be at least a fair shot. O’Byrne and his pet soldier were awesome. But what the hell good were guns against vampires? After considering the question for a while, he lit on the answer. O’Byrne had made some kind of special ammunition! Clever bastard. Didn’t care squat about tradition – O’Byrne would examine the problem and figure out a solution that *worked*.

Meaning he was more dangerous than Polovsky had thought.

His tactics, his allies, O’Byrne’s own abilities... Polovsky would need an edge or he’d need to run. Luckily, there was an edge to be had.

O’Byrne had a rather obvious weakness.

He had a woman.

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1700, Thursday (Local)

Buffy walked into the Keep to be greeted by the smell of dinner.

Sniffing the air, she decided dinner smelled pretty good. She groaned. Buffy knew that she had to get these people out of her house or she was gonna get mega chunky. Of coarse, it would taste good on the way. Mac appeared in front of her.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he said. “We’ll run it off.” Mac wrapped his arms around Buffy, lifted her up and gave her a deep, lingering kiss.

“I was hoping we’d find some other way to burn the calories, Mac,” she suggested playfully. Mac smiled in reply. “Miss me?” Buffy asked. Mac’s smile grew wider as he kissed his lady again.

Dana walked in and caught the display of affection. “I’m kind of surprised you two have the energy to fight vampires,” she teased.

Buffy and Mac unlocked their lips and turned their heads to Scully.

“It’s an immortal thing,” said Buffy playfully. She patted Mac on the shoulder. “Put me down, Mackenzie. I need to go get clean.”

Mac obliged and Buffy headed for the stairway. Pausing on the first step, she turned back to him. “Well?” she asked. “Aren’t you gonna come along and ask me about my day?”

Mac padded over to her, hoisted her up until she was cradled in his arms and carried the woman up the stairs. Dana watched them go with a smile on her face.

“They are very much in love,” came Jager’s voice from behind her.

Scully turned to find Fox and Thomas looking at the stairs.

“I hope they’re quick,” wisecracked Mulder. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Jager turned on the man with blood in his eyes. Scully darted forward and slapped Mulder’s arm. “Be nice, Fox,” she ordered, hoping that would defuse the veteran.

It didn’t. “Mulder, I will say this only once. You will treat the mistress of this house with proper respect or I will kill you,” Jager said in a slow, flat voice. “Do you understand?”

“He was teasing, Thomas,” soothed Dana. Jager fixed Mulder with an icy glare for a long second, then turned on his heel and left.

“Jesus!” commented Mulder. “What was that about?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Fox? Thomas is in love with her,” informed Dana.

Mulder pondered that for a moment. “Well, he’s fond of her but-”

“No, Fox,” sighed Dana. “In love. Not he-wants-her-for-himself love. More like the old-fashioned, courtly type.”

“You think?” asked her partner.

“I think that he meant what he said, Fox. Mackenzie O’Byrne might grin at a crack like that. Thomas would kill you.”

Buffy actually did tell Mac about her day – it just took a while to get around to it. First, they had felt a mutual need to burn some of those calories that Buffy was always worried about.

It was almost six when they got back downstairs. In a way, they’d followed Mulder’s advice – for the two of them, that had been quick.

Under Jager’s careful scrutiny, Mulder kept his mouth shut. The rest of them were just polite as the late arrivals grabbed some food. The agents were gradually drawn into the circle of friends as the afternoon gave way to evening. At eight, Buffy decided to drag them all down to the Bronze.

She called her friends and pretty soon the whole group had decided to meet there at nine.

Mulder looked around at Buffy’s extended family. Oz was playing with the band on stage (’Dingoes Ate My Baby?’ he mused, chuckling quietly). Willow was dishing with Buffy, who was leaned back against O’Byrne, cradled under one of his arms. Jager and Xander were discussing something about new tactics the ‘Slayerettes’ were keen to try out. Duncan and Joe were sitting across from Dana and himself, quietly drinking coffee as the four of them and O’Byrne (apparently oblivious to Buffy and Willow’s discussion) listened to Giles report on something the Council had just sent him.

It was a comfortable group.

Deceptive, too. Mulder was keenly aware that between Buffy, Mac, Jager, Duncan, Dana and himself there was enough firepower being carried to overthrow a small nation. Among the entire group there was enough destructive experience to terrorize a fair-sized one.

Yet, to look at them from a distance, they were just a group of friends aged between twenty and maybe thirty-five (discounting Dawson and Giles) enjoying an evening out on the town. Though he still had qualms about the kids – *young people*, he amended – being involved, it was obvious that the warriors in the group valued them. Where it came to vampires and demons at any rate. Players in the ‘Game’ were strictly the purview of the immortals.

Macleod and O’Byrne, specifically. Mulder wondered if Buffy minded the unspoken protectiveness. Given her obvious disdain for the ‘Game’ – she gone on at some length about the stupidity of it before – and the older immortals’ plain submission to her in the demon department, Mulder thought it unlikely. Interesting.

He was on the verge of a grin, thinking about the creative kind of suicide someone would be committing by accosting them, when a couple of drunken idiots did just that.

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
The Bronze
2145, Thursday (Local)

“Hey, girlie, let’s dance,” demanded a young man as he dropped his hand on Willow’s shoulder. The young woman nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Uhm, thanks, but, no,” answered Willow. “My boyfriend’s in the band.”

“Well,” announced the first kid’s friend, “If he complains, we’ll deal with him. Hey, sweet thang,” said punk number two to Buffy. “Let’s dance.”

Mulder looked around at the assembled group, wondering who was going to lead the charge. Curiously, none of them moved. Xander tensed up, but Jager simply laid a hand on the young man’s arm, quieting Xander immediately.

Buffy smiled sweetly at her admirer. “Thanks, I can’t,” she demurred.

“What, you two bitches are too good for us?” demanded punk number one in a slurred voice.

“No, we’re just both here with someone,” answered Buffy. She squinted. “Don’t I know you?”

“Yeah, bitch, we’re in English 202 together,” confirmed punk number one.

‘Bitch’ again. Twice in less than thirty seconds. Mulder decided the boy definitely had a death wish.

“That’s not a nice thing to say to a lady,” suggested Scully. Mulder thought Dana was on the verge of shooting both of the kids dead on the spot.

“What ‘lady’, *bitch*?” emphasized punk number two. Number one began to chuckle. Mulder shot a look at O’Byrne. Duncan started to get up, but stopped when Buffy waved him off.

“Oh, you got a problem, dude?” punk one asked him.

Duncan grinned. Dana noticed that the Scotsman’s charm had been stashed away somewhere. Still, it was probably better if Duncan dealt with the kids – Jager or Mac would probably kill them. Thinking of which – why were they sitting so calmly? Something didn’t fit.

For his part, Mac was trying to decide what Buffy would let him get away with. One of her hands was already squeezing his thigh in silent warning. Still, he had a limit, and she damn well knew it.

“Mark, right?” she asked number one. “Listen, Mark, you guys are drunk. Why don’t you just leave?”

‘Mark’s’ hand was still on Willow’s shoulder. He looked Buffy straight in the eye and very deliberately enunciated, “Fuck you!”

Mac limit was reached right then – just as Buffy released her grip on his thigh. Disengaging himself from her, the immortal warrior stood up, reached out, grabbed Mark’s throat and jerked him into the air.

With the inebriated young man’s feet dangling a good two feet off the ground as he gasped for breath, Mac started to speak.

“I don’t like you. Leave. Right now. Or I will cripple you – right now.”

One of the bouncers suddenly showed up. “There a problem here?” he demanded. Mac turned to look at him. The bouncer stepped back.

“No, no problem. Why?” asked Mac cheerfully. The bouncers eyes darted over to Mark, who was turning purple as Mac strangled him. Mark’s feet were still well clear of the ground.

The bouncer summoned his courage. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Mac’s eye narrowed. ‘Do you mean us?” he asked, still in his ‘cheerful’ voice. Buffy grimaced.

The bouncer’s eyes scanned the assembled group before turning back to O’Byrne – who was still holding the boy suspended in the air. “Ah, no. Definitely not you guys, no. *Them*,” he said, indicating the two drunks. Punk number two was backed up against the wall, eyes wide and abruptly sober.

“Oh,” said Mac. “Okay.” He released his grip on the boy, Mark, who immediately dropped to the floor. Mac turned his gaze on the boy trying to become one with they wall. “Did I stutter?” he asked.

“No, sir,” replied the suddenly respectful young man.

“Then why are you still here?”

“I think he is tired of living,” suggested Jager.

Mark’s friend grabbed the kid on the floor and started hustling away.

Mac’s eyes followed them all the way out the door. When they were gone, he turned to the bouncer.

“Sorry for the trouble, sir,” he apologized – still entirely cheerful.

Too much so, in Buffy’s estimation. She reached over and tapped his hip. Mac looked down at her. When he looked back at the bouncer his face was back in its usual bland mode. “Would you like us to leave?”

“No, that’s okay – but no more trouble, okay?”

“No more trouble, Charlie,” promised Willow.

The bouncer nodded and left. Mac sat back down. Buffy stared at him for a long second before finally sighing and giving him a kiss.

“My hero,” she teased.

“I’d have let you deal with him, but-” began Mac.

“But nothing,” Buffy interrupted him. “Thomas, sit down!” Jager grimaced and sat back down. Mulder had seen the man start to rise from his chair. Buffy had obviously made the same guess as Mulder concerning what the man intended.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah – ‘but nothing’,” the young woman smiled at her fiancé. “You’re my hero. And we don’t have to take anyone to the hospital this time, either.” Buffy wrapped her arms around Mac’s neck and drew him into a deep kiss.

“Duncan?” asked Dana quietly. “Are all of you so strong?”

Mac heard her and looked up before Macleod could answer. “I don’t know about the rest of these guys, but I have the strength of ten because my heart is pure,” he pontificated.

Duncan choked back a laugh as Buffy started giggling.

“Actually, Reaper, I think it’s more like the strength of thirty,” joked Jager. “Plus whatever they accumulated.”

Scully looked confused, but Mulder grasped the implication immediately.

“Quickenings. He’s talking about Quickenings, Dana,” he said softly.

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2330, Thursday (Local)

Once back at the Keep, the six of them – Mac, Buffy, Mulder, Dana, Duncan and Joe – said goodnight and slipped off to bed. Giles and Jager had separated from them when they left the Bronze, along with Xander, Oz and Willow.

Joe and Duncan were asleep in each of their rooms in short order.

Dana and Fox – now sharing a room – dressed for bed, but, perhaps surprisingly, didn’t immediately launch themselves at one another.

There were things to discuss.

“Did you see the way he jerked that kid into the air?” asked Mulder. “And kept him hanging there for – how long? A minute?”

“I saw, Fox. Did you pick up on why it took him so long to move?” she asked.

“It’s the nineties, Dana. He didn’t want to get in the way while Buffy asserted herself-”

“Oh, bull,” she interrupted. “Trust me, Fox – that wasn’t the reason.”

“Then what was?” he asked, interested in her take.

“Remember what they told us about being mugged? They didn’t really come out an say it, but I guarantee that she ripped him a new one over that. The second those two popped up, Mac was struggling to contain himself. He didn’t want to upset Buffy,” she finished.

“You think she has that much influence on him?” queried her partner.

“Yes, I do. She’s probably the only person that does. This isn’t some mutual infatuation, Fox. Hell, I think it’s more than just the two of them being deeply in love,” she theorized.

“Love taming the savage beast?”

“No. More than that. Something *deeper*...” Dana’s voice trailed away as she lost herself in thought. “Somehow, she’s reached him in a way I don’t think anyone has before. When she did that, she bought him outright.”

“Mutual, you think?”

“Very much so,” Dana agreed. “I think those two have been through six kinds of hell – every bit of it alone. Finding each other... God, Fox, can you imagine what one of them would do if something happened to the other?”

“I know what I want to do,” he said suggestively. Dana smiled at the man and reached out for him.

‘Why did we wait so long?’ was her last thought before thinking was set aside.

In their bedroom, Buffy and Mac silently decided to forgo any discussion until *after*. When after finally arrived, they were wrapped in each other’s arms and tangled in the sheets. A light sheen of perspiration was drying rapidly in the warm breeze coming from the window.

Buffy’s head was pillowed on Mac’s chest. He softly stroked her back, amazed at the vision in his arms.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” he asked.

Buffy smiled against his chest. “What do you think?” she asked playfully.

“Oh.” He craned his neck to where he could plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “Thank *you*.”

“All part of the service,” she replied, eliciting a chuckle from him. Buffy turned in his arms and propped her chin on his chest so she could look at his face. ‘My god, he’s beautiful,’ she thought.

Buffy couldn’t quite believe the prize she’d won.

“Where have you been all my life?” she teased.

“Looking for you?” he ventured.

Buffy snorted. “In Algeria? Viet Nam? Boy you really did search high and low, didn’t ya?”

Mac chuckled again as he moved his hand up from her back to stroke her hair.

Buffy wrinkled her forehead. “How close to you come to killing those kids tonight?” she asked.

Mac’s eyes grew cold for a moment as he considered her question. After a few seconds, he refocused on the woman in his arms and the warmth returned. The look on his face had answered her question.

Buffy arched forward and kissed her man. “I love you, Mac.”

Drawing her tight against him, he said, “I love you.”

Part 8

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0700, Friday (Local)

Scully slowly woke up. Mulder’s arm was wrapped around her waist, the two of them spooned. Dana decided after a moment’s thought that the sensation was luxuriously comfortable. What the hell had woken her up?

The trill of her cell phone answered that question. Cursing under her breath, she lunged for the phone.

“Scully,” she answered. Fox was awake, eyes drinking her in. Dana began to blush, realizing that the man beside her was being treated to a view of her naked from the waste up.

“*Agent Scully, this Detective Palmer, LAPD,*” announced the voice on the phone.

“Yes, Detective. What have you got for me?” Dana asked as she tried to cover herself with the sheet.

“*Unfortunately, not much. We found a couple of partial prints that our killer missed during his wipe down of the car, and we’re having them analyzed. But, hell, they may turn out to belong to that poor bastard in ‘Frisco*,” Palmer reported. Fox dragged the sheet from her hand. And kept dragging, exposing more of her. Dana slapped at his hand.

“Damn it. No other leads?” she asked. Fox had grabbed her hand and started sucking and nibbling on her fingers.

“*Afraid not. Have you got anything?*”

Fox moved his mouth to her breast, keeping her hand trapped. Dana struggled to keep her voice steady.

“Not yet. We-” Dana drew her breath in sharply as Fox nibbled on her. “We’ll keep looking.”

“*Right. Later.*” The L.A. Detective hung up.

Dana thumbed off the phone and dropped it to the floor. With her now empty hand, she grasped Fox by his hair and pulled him away from her.

“Fox...” she threatened.

He gazed up at her. “What?” he asked.

“It’ll keep,” she said, and moved his head back to her breast.

Buffy, Mac and Duncan finished their run and walked into the living room. They each stopped long enough to grab a cup of coffee and headed out back to the training pit. Duncan led them through a series of katas for a while, before pulling Buffy onto the grass for a little one-on-one unarmed combat training.

Joe brought a thermos of coffee outside and shared it with Mac while they watched the Slayer spar with the Highlander.

‘Damn – we do all have cool names,’ mused Mac, thinking back to Mitchell’s comment. ‘Maybe Mitchell could’ve used one.’

Seeing the wry grin on Mac’s face, Joe asked, “What?”

“Nothing, Joe,” replied the immortal. “Just admiring my girl.”

Buffy was certainly giving Macleod a run for his money, Dawson noted. Give the woman a few more years of practice...

At eight-thirty, Buffy signaled a halt. “I’ve got to get to school, Duncan. Two classes on Fridays.”

As she walked past her fiancé, she grinned and turned back to Macleod. “How ‘bout giving my honey a little exercise?” she called. “He’s looking a little peaked.”

Joe and Duncan laughed as Mac stood up and gave Buffy a playful swat on her rump. She giggled and kissed him quickly before darting into the house.

As Mac walked over to him, Duncan observed, “That girl is going to be the end of you, Mac.”

“Maybe,” agreed O’Byrne. “But what a way to go.”

As Buffy trotted up the stairs, Mulder was heading down. She told him the guys were all out back and raced into her bedroom.

Mulder continued on down and outside. The two immortals were attacking one another with great gusto. Joe handed him a cup of coffee as he sat down to observe the warriors at practice.

Mixing styles with each move, O’Byrne and Macleod danced a freewheeling ballet of death. Locking and breaking holds, occasionally managing to toss their opponent to the ground, the immortals were pulling no punches – Mulder heard the occasional snap of a breaking bone. After a little consideration, he thought he understood why.

As warriors, they had to be able to fight on despite injury, despite pain. Knowing that they wouldn’t seriously hurt one another, the two warriors were literally trying to kill each other.

It went on for quite a while, too.

Buffy popped outside long enough to give Joe a quick hug and took off for school. Scully came out with a cup of coffee and sat down to watch the show.

At one point, Macleod managed to dislocate O’Byrne’s arm and break his elbow. Mulder would have thought that would stop the fight – at least for a moment. Instead, O’Byrne managed some kind of complicated twist that ended in a palm strike that hurled Macleod away from him. Grabbing his own broken arm, O’Byrne wrenched the injured elbow back into alignment. Macleod charged back into the fray, earning a kick into his face of sufficient force to somersault him backward.

O’Byrne set his feet, gritted his teeth and somehow jerked his dislocated shoulder back into place, just as Macleod swept his feet out from beneath him.

The match ended with Macleod stopping his own palm strike to O’Byrne’s face just an inch short of his nose. Dana knew that blow would have driven bone shards into Mac’s brain. Apparently the immortals knew it as well – despite appearing to be lost in the heat of combat, both men had known exactly how far to push and when to stop.

Mac gazed up at Duncan. “Luck,” he said.

“Maybe,” allowed Duncan with a grin. “But you’re still dead.”

O’Byrne smiled and held up his hand. Macleod seized it and pulled his friend to his feet. The warriors bowed to one another.

Approaching the coffee klatch, Mac observed, “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
Sunnydale Community College
1505, Friday (Local)

Finished for the day, Buffy was enroute back to her car when she felt the presence of another immortal. She looked around, trying to spot Mac.

Instead, she saw a man leaning against her car, looking surprised.

No, not a *man*. Polovsky. Buffy recognized him from a photo Joe had produced for her and her friends. ‘Good god!’ thought Polovsky.

‘O’Byrne’s woman is an immortal. Well, well.’

Buffy started to pull out her phone but stopped when Polovsky opened his coat enough to reveal his gun.

“No trouble, now, dear. No sense dying before giving your boyfriend a chance to rescue you, now is there?”

Startling Polovsky to no end, Buffy leaped to her right, landing between a pair of cars. Pulling out her phone as she scuttled for safety, she hit speed dial and started praying.

“Hello?” answered Mac after two rings.

“Mac! He’s here!” she cried.

“Where are you?” demanded Reaper. ‘*Definitely* Reaper,’ ran through Buffy’s mind.

“School parking lot,” she informed him.

“Can you get to the church on Grove?”

Buffy was already running, threading her way through cars as she went. As the silenced bullet shattered her spine, she fell to the ground.

“Buffy? Buffy, are you there?” demanded Mac. Buffy tried to answer, but couldn’t.

Polovsky was suddenly standing over her. The immortal pumped another three rounds into Buffy’s twitching body. Her last that before she died was of Mac.

“BUFFY!” screamed O’Byrne into the phone. Surrounding him, two federal agents, two Watchers and his fellow immortal stood silent.

“*No need to shout ‘Reaper’,*” answered a voice on the phone in Mac’s hand. “*Wouldn’t do any good anyway. I’m afraid your woman is dead. Well, for the moment anyway. I imagine she’ll be back soon.*”

Reaper stood and listened as the voice taunted him. Inside, the rage was quelled as all emotion died. Not one shred of humanity was left in the man. All was calm. Reaper was the center of a vast pool of nothingness. No emotion. No sentiment. No fear.

“Polovsky?” he asked in a flat, dead voice.

“*Why, yes. I have something you want, now. How about a trade?*”

“When and where?” that deathly calm voice asked again.

“*I’ll be in touch.*” The line went dead.

Mulder watched O’Byrne calmly hang up the phone and walk out of the room. Everyone jumped up and followed as he went upstairs. Once he reached his room, O’Byrne stripped and walked into the shower.

“Mac...” Duncan started. The older immortal’s voice trailed away as O’Byrne stopped and turned around.

“Hunter,” he said calmly. “Get dressed. Give Duncan some clothes. We’re going to work.” Finished with his instructions, O’Byrne took his shower.

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1630, Friday (Local)

They were all gathered in O’Byrne’s office, Jager hunched over the computer. Macleod, Hunter and Reaper were dressed much alike. Loose clothes, long coats. The two legionnaires were armed for bear, equipped with pistols, shotguns, knives and stun and thermite grenades.

The Highlander had a pistol and his sword. In addition, Jager was armed with the .50 sniper rifle.

“Here’s the play,” instructed Reaper crisply and calmly. “Polovsky will feel another immortal coming, so, Highlander, you’re the reserve. If Polovsky takes me, you take him. If you’re worried about the Dark Quickening, shoot him, bind him, encase him in cement and drop him in the middle of the ocean. But stop him.

“If I win, determine if I’m suffering from the Dark Quickening. Do what you need to do. Hunter,” continued O’Byrne. “Priority one is to retrieve the Slayer. That mission is yours. Utilize whatever means are necessary. My safety is not a concern. Clear?”

Jager nodded. Watchers were forbidden to interfere in any fight between immortals – but Reaper was a brother of the Legion. The Slayer was in danger. And Polovsky was in bad need of being killed. ‘Fuck the Watchers,’ he decided.

“The rest of you can not help with this. End of story,” Reaper stated flatly.

“Any questions?” Reaper looked around at his allies.

“How do you find her?” asked Mulder.

“Buffy’s phone has a locator chip in it,” answered Jager. “It’s the latest thing – intended to dissuade cell phone thefts.” Mulder remembered the Lone Gunmen telling him about that. They were convinced it was so the government could track its citizens.

“A gimmick, but just now a useful one,” put in O’Byrne. He turned to Jager. “Have they stopped moving yet?”

Jager studied the monitor for several seconds. “Yes. I have their location.”

O’Byrne exchanged the battery on his own cell phone, then picked up the phone on his desk and punched in a series of numbers. Setting the phone back in it’s cradle, he looked up.

“If he calls, it will forward to my cell. Stay off the line,” he instructed Dawson and the two agents. He turned to Jager. “Hunter, radios.”

Jager stood and passed a radio to Macleod. Then he pointed to Dawson, asking, “Remember how to hook up the rig?” The Watcher nodded.

“Don’t call us,” instructed Reaper. “I’ll check back to make sure their location hasn’t changed before we strike the target. Scully, can you operate the locator program?”

“It is set to track automatically,” Jager informed her.

Scully look at the window on the computer screen, studied it for a moment, then looked up and nodded. “Yes.”

Reaper looked around. “No matter what, Polovsky dies tonight,” he said in that same eerily flat, dead voice.

Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Jager and Macleod were right behind him.

“What do you think, Joe?” Dana asked once the immortals had driven away.

“I think I’ve read his file,” answered the Watcher. “Believe me, it doesn’t do him justice.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mulder.

“Well... What do you know about him?” Dawson temporized.

“We know about his military background,” Dana ventured. “Buffy told me a little about him.”

“Did she mention he was a POW in ‘Nam?”

“What?!”

Mulder looked as shocked as Scully sounded. Every story about every ‘crazy vet’ returning from the war danced through his head.

“Yeah,” continued Dawson. “For about a month at the end of the Tet Offensive. Then he escaped. Took him another month to make it back to US forces. There are reports that he stalked and killed more than a hundred NVA and VC troops on his way back. When he got back, his C.O. put him in for a Distinguished Service Cross.

“Some pencil pusher had it downgraded to a Silver Star – his first of several. Didn’t matter to ‘The Reaper’, though. Only time he ever wore his awards was when ordered to.”

The two federal agents stared at Dawson as he continued to share what he knew about the men out hunting for their comrade – and beyond being the love of O’Byrne’s life, their comrade she surely was.

“Before and since, O’Byrne’s been fighting one war or another. Thomas spent ten years in the Legion. Been everywhere from Beirut to Baghdad. And he’s spent most of the nineties dogging after Mac. He’s had to kill over a dozen men just to stay alive as he followed his assignment. And Mac never even knew he was there – which, when you think about it, is pretty slick in itself.

“Macleod... Well, Duncan’s fought in one war after another himself. Back in World War II, he was part of the French resistance, worked for the British SOE and was part of the plot to kill Hitler in ‘44.

“What do I think?” finished Joe. “I think Polovsky is going to die tonight. God alone have mercy on the bastard if Buffy’s dead – because then Reaper won’t settle for his head.”

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
1002 Johnston Ave.
2030, Friday (Local)

Hunter was in his element. The veteran slipped from shadow to shadow as he circumnavigated the condemned building. He’d been here before, hunting vampires, so he was familiar with the layout. That did nothing to mute the caution he exercised during his stalk. At one point or another he froze, almost preternaturally aware of everything around him.

As the late spring sun had sunk low over the horizon, he’d moved into position. Taking well over an hour, he was finally sliding into the roost he’d selected for himself high up in the warehouse. It was one of several points where he’d thought he might have a good shot at his target.

Sure enough – there the bastard was, sitting on a crate and examining Buffy. Hunter examined the immortal through the scope on his rifle.

Tempted to scan Buffy, to check her for signs of life, he disciplined himself to concentrate on the target. He couldn’t help noticing she still had her head – given that much, the woman would heal.

He sighted in on Polovsky. Once he confirmed that it was him sitting there, Hunter focused the cross hairs on the center of his target’s mass and began his breathing rhythm. Even if the target was wearing body armor, it wouldn’t matter. The round would eviscerate the target on impact.

Set and centered, Hunter began to squeeze the trigger.

Completely unaware that he was centered in the sights of the sniper overhead, Polovsky focused on the girl. She was gorgeous, truly a remarkable catch. The fear in her eyes as she stared at him from where she lay bound and gagged on the floor was delicious. Once he’d dealt with O’Byrne, it would be pleasant to-

No. He was going to have to simply kill her and be gone. With luck, O’Byrne would come alone. The Rules of their Game demanded all combat be one-on-one.

Of course, Reaper might not follow those rules... But Macleod would.

And Polovsky was reasonably sure that he could take either of the immortals – after all, he had the girl for leverage. He considered that for bit as he fondled the girl’s phone.

When should he call?

He decided to let O’Byrne hang for a bit longer – the stress would eat at the man. Meantime, Polovsky figured he should get some rest. He stretched and began to rise just as a tremendous explosion sounded.

He was punched in the gut and hurled across the floor by an absolutely stunning impact.

“*Scheisse*!” hissed Hunter. The bastard had moved just as Hunter let the round loose. What was it Deblout had said? – The bastard had luck? Damn straight. He kept the rifle sighted on Polovsky as he carefully picked up his radio. Reaper was waiting for his call.

“*Reaper, Hunter. Go*!” he hissed in French. He knew that his Brother was charging in at that moment. Still he kept his scope centered on Polovsky.

Who twitched.

Polovsky felt the approach of another immortal. That bastard! O’Byrne had broken the Rules – not just with the gun, but by using a mortal to shoot him! And Polovsky knew exactly who that mortal had to be – the soldier he’d observed the day before. Sheer luck he’d moved when he had. Undoubtedly that shot was intended to hollow out his chest, making him an easy kill.

But how in hell had O’Byrne found him? Of course! That damned girl must be wearing a locator of some kind. That god damned O’Byrne had staked his woman out as a Judas Goat!

Polovsky felt compelled to admire his opponent’s ruthlessness.

As the healing began, Polovsky slowly closed his hand around his gun.

Reaper was moving the second Hunter’s call came in, Macleod close on his heels. In moments, they were inside the warehouse. In less than a minute they were standing over Polovsky.

Seeing his partners arrive and move to the target, Hunter quickly swarmed down a series of ladders to the ground floor. He raced straight to Buffy, heaved her up over his shoulder and started out of the building.

Behind him, the immortals waited for the target to revive.

“Not fair, Reaper,” wheezed Polovsky. “You used a mortal.”

“Stand up when you’re ready, Polovsky,” instructed Reaper in that flat voice. “Take your time. I’ve got the rest of your life.”

Part 9

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
1002 Johnston Ave.
2045, Friday (Local)

Once outside the warehouse, Hunter set down his burden. Taking out a knife, he carefully cut the gag from Buffy’s mouth.

“Are you all right, Buffy?” he asked.

“Mac?” she demanded.

“Inside. Dealing with Polovsky,” he informed her as he set to work on her bindings.

Buffy started shaking her head. “But, the Dark Quickening-”

Jager understood her concerns all too well. “The Highlander has a pistol. If it turns Reaper, Macleod will kill him. Then we’ll figure out how to cure him.”

The last of the rope was cut away. The Watcher helped Buffy to her feet. She started massaging the feeling back into her arms as Jager kept a hand on her shoulder to steady the young woman.

“Who knows what’s happened?” Buffy asked as she worked to get the kinks out.

“Just Scully, Mulder, Dawson, and Macleod. There was no time and no point in telling anyone else,” he answered. “We had to scramble to rescue you.”

Buffy cringed.

“Don’t take it badly, Buffy. Those two men in there have needed rescuing a time or two themselves,” he tried to reassure her.

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. It snapped the Slayer out of her shock and let her focus on the single most important thing in the world at that moment in time. Her man was in that building playing Russian Roulette, spinning the cylinder on a pistol with three bullets in it – Polovsky and his sword, the risk of the Dark Quickening...

And the gun Polovsky had killed her with.

Buffy started to race back inside just as the shots rang out.

“Stand up when you’re ready, Polovsky,” instructed Reaper in that flat voice. “Take your time. I’ve got the rest of your life.”

The wounded immortal groaned. The pain radiating from the wound the .50 sniper rifle had inflicted on him was excruciating. Still, Polovsky managed to quietly reach for the pistol in his coat pocket.

“Two on one, Reaper?” he demanded. “The Rules truly mean nothing to you, do they?” he accused.

“That’s rich, coming from you, Polovsky,” Macleod derided him.

“Don’t worry, Polovsky. I know the Rules,” answered Reaper. Polovsky began to notice O’Byrne’s voice. It had a dead quality to it that was truly frightening to behold. Thanks in part to the power of Mac Cuhil’s Quickening, Polovsky was already healed.

But he continued to huddle on the ground, waiting for his opportunity.

“We’ll have a fair fight,” continued the Reaper. “Then you’ll die.”

Polovsky rolled over. The pistol in his hand fired.

Not even Mackenzie O’Byrne was faster than a speeding bullet. He was fast enough – barely – to turn slightly, causing the bullets intended for his heart to catch him in the side. The impact of the three rounds punched him hard, hurling him down to the ground and across the floor, his sword skittering away.

Quick as a snake, Polovsky turned and emptied the rest of the clip into Macleod, who had whipped his sword up and was striking down at him in a powerful overhead stroke. The Highlander staggered back, sword flying from his grasp. The immortal hit the floor, dead on impact.

Polovsky rolled to his feet and pulled out his sword. Seeing O’Byrne struggling back up and reaching for his own blade, Polovsky turned and fled.

He reached the door just as O’Byrne’s woman ran in. Barely noticing the ‘buzz’ that had signaled her approach, Buffy sensing all three of the men inside, neither had time to prepare. The two immortals slammed into one another. Polovsky’s superior mass carried them back outside.

Behind them, O’Byrne staggered to his feet and took off in pursuit. He reached the door to find Polovsky struggling with Hunter, who’d smashed the stock of his rifle against the ribs of the powerful immortal.

Polovsky swiped at the Watcher with his sword, slicing the man open from his groin to his neck. As Hunter collapsed to the ground, Polovsky whirled on Buffy. She kicked him in the face and retreated toward a small clump of trees some idiot designer had decided would be enough greenery to make up for the ugliness of the warehouse.

Polovsky charged, raising his sword to take her head.

Reaper dropped his sword and grabbed his shotgun. He brought the bead up fast. Maybe the immortal had never drawn so fast in his entire sixty years of life. On pure instinct, he sighted and fired. Earlier – owing to Polovsky’s damnable, uncanny luck – Hunter had essentially missed his target.

Reaper didn’t.

Buffy heard the roar of a shotgun and felt a splash of blood as Polovsky’s chest exploded over her. The explosive slugs Reaper had loaded the shotgun with hollowed out the immortal. Bits of his heart, lungs, liver and intestines washed over Buffy as Polovsky’s blood and viscera sprayed through the air.

Polovsky was hurtled forward in pursuit of his missing parts by the blast. His sword fell to the ground as the immortal collapsed at Buffy’s feet.

Reaper picked up his sword and raced to his fallen enemy. He jerked his pistol from its holster and handed to Buffy. “See to Hunter,” he ordered.

Buffy started toward the injured Watcher, but saw Reaper raise his sword to finish off Polovsky.

“Mac!” she cried out. “The Rules-”

“Fuck the Rules,” Reaper cut her off. He brought his sword down and took Polovsky’s head.

Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
1002 Johnston Ave.
2100, Friday (Local)

The mist from Polovsky’s ruined corpse writhed out and settled over Reaper. The lightning began to dance. A stray shot of it hit Buffy and hurled the Slayer back ten feet through the air. She thudded onto the ground near Jager.

Knowing there was nothing she could do for her man, Buffy wrenched her eyes off the spectacle and focused on Jager. The Watcher was hurt badly, but she thought he’d make it if they could get him to a hospital in time. She ripped off her shirt and pressed it to the deep slice in his chest. The Watcher was oblivious.

All of Thomas Jager’s attention was focused on his friend. Reaper was suffering through the most powerful Quickening the Watcher had ever witnessed.

Thick, powerful bolts of lightening shot out in all directions, crawling over every nearby surface. The trees were set on fire. One, then two of them exploded. The windows high overhead shattered and rained glass over everything. Buffy huddled over the Watcher to protect him from the flying debris. Glass sliced open her back. She couldn’t cry out, because the air was sucked from her lungs.

The air was so thick with static electricity that Buffy’s air stood out in a halo around her head as sparks jumped back and forth between her and Thomas.

Behind her, Mac was screaming in tongues. The pain in his voice tore at her heart.

‘Please, god, oh please don’t let it turn him,’ Buffy prayed.

Rather than diminish, the Quickening continued to mount in force, as the combined power of the Quickenings of the tens of immortals Polovsky had slain tore into and through O’Byrne. Finally a sonic boom rent the air.

And all was silence.

Buffy turned to look at the man she loved. He was strewn on the ground like so much garbage. She wanted to go to him, tried to, but Jager grasped her arm.

“Wait,” croaked the Watcher. “Ready your pistol.”

It was two long minutes before the body stirred. Buffy could hear sirens in the distance as the immortal climbed to his feet.

“Mac...” Buffy called softly. Was he still Mac? Or had the Quickening been dark? Had it turned him into another Polovsky?

Had she just lost him just as she’d once lost Angel?

The immortal stumbled. He started to reach out to his sword, then stopped. His head whipped around and focused on Buffy. He stared at her for a long moment, then strode toward her with increasing strength. Buffy clenched the pistol tight in her hand.

Mac collapsed on his knees beside her and looked into her eyes.

“Mac?” she asked.

He gave her a weak grin. “Still me, honey,” he answered. Buffy wondered how she could be sure. Mac’s hands reached past her and gently probed Jager’s wound. “Can you walk, Hunter? We need to get gone.”

Jager gave him a weak grin. “I’ll manage.”

“Get Buffy to the truck, Brother,” Mac instructed. He leaned over a few inches and kissed Buffy tenderly. “Get out of here, sweetie. Take Hunter back to the Keep.”

“The Keep? Not a hospital?” she asked.

“Dana’s an MD, remember? Better than a hospital. No waiting.”

“What about you?”

“Duncan’s down. I need to get him out of here.” Mac stood, dragging Jager to his feet. “Get going,” he ordered.

Following Thomas’ directions, Buffy helped him stagger away.

Mac walked over to Polovsky’s corpse. He looked down at the ruined monster for a moment, allowing himself one precious second of satisfaction.

“It’s done, Finn,” he told the memory of his friend and teacher. Then he bent over and retrieved the swords. Leaving the body behind, he turned and started to walk away. Having a thought, he turned back and quickly searched through the dead immortals pockets. He found Polovsky’s wallet and Buffy’s phone. Setting a couple of his stun grenades inside what was left of Polovsky’s chest, he grabbed the head and set it in the cavity before carefully balanced a thermite grenade on top and pulling the pin.

As he walked away, the thermite activated, setting off the stun grenades, blowing what was left was left of the immortal to pieces and incinerating the bits. Let some cop figure that one out!

Inside the warehouse, he picked up Duncan’s Katana and Buffy’s sword from where Polovsky had tossed it before the other immortals’ arrival. Finally, he heaved the temporarily dead immortal over his shoulder. Then he walked out into the night and put space between him and the mess he’d left behind.

He walked close to a mile before he felt life beginning to return to his friend. Sitting the awakening immortal down he groaned with relief.

“Well that took long enough. You know, you’re one heavy bastard, Duncan.”

Macleods eyes fluttered open as he gasped, sucking in his first breath in almost an hour. He eyed Mac suspiciously. “What happened?” he demanded.

“You died.”

“No kidding?” replied Duncan sarcastically. “*Then* what happened?”

“I executed Polovsky. After I blew his chest apart with an explosive shell.” Mac grimaced. “Please don’t give me any crap about it. The bastard had taken out Hunter and was trying for Buffy’s head.”

Macleod’s eyes grew wide. “Is Thomas...”

“Christ, I hope so. I told Buffy to take him to Dana – she’s an MD. I needed to cover up the mess I made of Polovsky and drag your heavy ass out of there. Sirens were closing in as you and I departed,” reported Mac.

Duncan felt for his sword.

“Looking for this?” asked Mac, holding up Duncan’s Katana. “Don’t get in a huff, Duncan,” he scolded as he watched the Highlander’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “I didn’t want it poking me as I carried you. And I really didn’t want you deciding I’d gone over to the dark side and trying to kill me. Here,” finished, handing over the sword.

“Can we go home now? What I mean is, are you done with your beauty sleep? I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m worn out from carrying you all over the place,” Mac complained with a grin.

Duncan rolled his eyes.

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2330, Friday (Local)

Buffy had gotten Thomas back to the Keep. Dana had immediately gone to work on the wounded Watcher. Using medical supplies that Mac kept on hand, she cleaned, stitched and dressed his wounds. Loading him up on Tylenol with codeine, Dana finally had Buffy and Mulder help her carry him to the couch. Dana really wanted him in a bed, but the wounded Watcher had no intention of moving until his friends returned.

Buffy had grabbed Dana and dragged her upstairs to the bathroom. It took some convincing, but she finally got Dana to agree to take the bullets out of her. Dana had agreed only because she believed Buffy when the young woman said she carve them out herself if Dana wouldn’t help her.

“I don’t want to be setting off metal detectors everywhere I go, Dana,” explained Buffy. One painful hour later, the young woman was free of Polovsky’s bullets. The experience left Dana shaken. Buffy had had to guide her as the doctor searched the fragments out without benefit of any x-ray to guide her effort.

Buffy and she had showered and dressed before coming back downstairs, both of them pale. Buffy was curing that by drinking lots of fluids as her body worked overtime to rapidly replace the blood she’d lost.

Dana had a stiff drink. Then she had another.

The five of them sat and waited for their friends to come back. Dana kept a close eye on Thomas, watching for complications. The Watcher had finally drifted off to sleep.

Right around eleven-thirty, Buffy leaped to her feet and raced to the door. She flung it open and ran outside.

Chasing after the young woman, Dawson and the two agents stopped when they got to the door. Buffy had her arms and legs wrapped around Mac and was kissing him passionately. Duncan looked at them a moment, then slipped by the lovers and trudged up the stairs to be warmly welcomed back.

Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0130, Saturday (Local)

Buffy snuggled in Mac’s lap, half asleep. He held her tightly, his face resting on her head. Duncan and Joe sat in the other two chairs, while Dana leaned back into Mulder on the love seat, their feet resting on the coffee table. Jager was drifting in and out of sleep on the couch.

Buffy had explained how Polovsky had shot her down, right in the parking lot, and how the immortal had taunted her with what he planned to do to her – with her – after he killed Mac. Mac, Duncan and Thomas had filled in the pieces of the story surrounding her rescue.

Dawson quietly wondered how much of this should find its way into the Watcher journals. If the truth about Jager’s role came out, Thomas would be on trial for his life, just as Dawson had once been – and Joe had no doubts whatsoever how O’Byrne would respond to *that*. No, this story was going to stay secret for a long, long time. It had to.

Mulder and Scully had been wondering how to explain this officially.

The families of Polovsky’s victims deserved to know that the murderer was dead. That’d keep for now. Maybe when they weren’t all so tired...

At one-thirty in the morning, Mac asked Dana whether or not they should move Jager. Deciding it was better if the injured man was actually in a bed, she’d said yes.

Mac patted Buffy’s hip and had her get up. As Mac and Duncan carefully moved the Watcher – under Dana’s critical supervision – the rest of them began stumbling off to bed.

Buffy took Mac gently by the hand and led him to the bathroom. First she turned on the shower, then stripped off his clothes. She took off her own and guided the other immortal into the shower. After the two of them were clean, they dried off and Buffy led her man to bed.

When Buffy slipped on a T-shirt, Mac understood that she intended for them to sleep. Barely able to keep his own eyes open, he didn’t really mind.

She crawled into bed with him, slipped into his arms and lay her head down on his chest. Mac draped his left arm over her back while his right hand stroked Buffy’s face. Mac realized she was already asleep.

In another moment, so was he.

Dana still had the shakes as she described what she’d done for Buffy.

Mulder sat, listening quietly.

When she finished, Mulder shook his head. “Well, she had a point, Dana.”

“Fox, I had no x-ray, no anesthetic, no proper instruments – I used a knife and a pair of needle-nose pliers!” she expounded.

“She’s all right, though, right?”

“That’s not the *point*, Fox.”

“They’re really something, aren’t they?” Mulder asked, hoping to discuss some less gruesome aspect of their hosts. “From what Buffy and Jager said, Polovsky’s Quickening made the fireworks the other night look like a sparkler.”

Dana nodded her head. “Can you imagine what it must have been like for her, Fox? Having to sit through that with a gun in her hand, waiting to see if Mac was still *Mac*?” she asked, looking pale. “Waiting to see if he’d try to kill *her*?”

“He took a big risk,” agreed Mulder. “Of course. He didn’t really have much choice.”

“He could have gone along with Buffy’s suggestion. It was exactly what he recommended to Duncan.”

“I mean that Mackenzie O’Byrne didn’t have much choice, Dana,” Mulder elaborated.

“You mean, you think he’s that driven by hate? Blood lust?”

“I think he’s a warrior from the old school,” he explained. “I don’t think letting an enemy live is ever really an option for him.”

The two partners looked at each other. Something between them silently went ‘click’.

In a moment, clothes were flying.

Part 10

Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1000, Saturday (Local)

Buffy woke up feeling Mac gently stroke her back. She tightened the arm she had draped across his stomach. The two of them had slept almost nine straight hours without moving at all.

After a while, Mac noticed she’d awaken. He slipped out of her arms and padded quietly into the bathroom. In a moment, Buffy heard the sound of the garden tub being filled. She gazed at her fiancé as he reappeared at the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face. Then Mac turned and walked back to her.

Pulling the young woman up, he slipped her T-shirt over her head. Mac bent down and slipped off Buffy’s panties. Then he stood and picked her up. Cradling his lover in his arms, Mac carried her to the bath.

He stepped into the tub and sat them down. Positioning Buffy between his legs with her back to him, the man reached around her and cut off the water.

Sitting in the large tub of bubbles, Mac picked up a bar of soap and began washing his woman. Finishing that, he reached out and picked up a bottle of shampoo and proceeded to wash Buffy’s hair.

Through it all, neither of them said a thing. Her chest nearly bursting with warmth, Buffy just enjoyed the attentions of her lover. Once he’d rinsed her hair with a pitcher of warm water, Buffy climbed out of the tub. Quickly brushing her teeth, she grabbed Mac’s shaving gear and moved back to the bath.

Sitting on the edge, she draped her legs over Mac’s shoulders an leaned his head back against her belly beneath her breasts. Buffy lathered her man’s face and carefully shaved him. Finished, she wiped the left over shaving cream from his face with a wash cloth.

Finally, Buffy bent down and kissed him.

The woman stood up, turned around and settled her self in Mac’s lap. He leaned forward so she could wrap he legs around him.

Still, the lovers remained silent.

As they began to make love, Buffy decided that this was something they had to do again. It was, hands down, the single most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

Dana woke up and checked on Thomas as Mulder made use of the shower in the hall bathroom. The Watcher had been lucky – Polovsky’s blade should have eviscerated him. Instead, it had only sliced him open to his ribs and the lair of subcutaneous fat. While he needed to take it easy for a few weeks, he could move around.

Making Mulder help the injured man downstairs, she made use of the shower herself before joining the slowly assembling group on the main floor.

Joe and Duncan were up. Duncan had already made reservations for the two men to fly back to Seattle that afternoon. When Dana asked him why, he’d explained that Buffy and Mac had had a rough week and needed some time to themselves. Dana had to agree that the immortal had a point.

Joe called Giles and told him he ought to put in appearance. Duncan fixed breakfast. He was serving it when Buffy’s Watcher arrived.

Alarmed at Jager’s condition and outraged that he hadn’t been called when Buffy was kidnapped, the group worked to settle him down.

“There was no *time*, Rupert,” asserted Jager. “The minute we got the call, Reaper had us all scrambling. Besides, what could you do? Wait and worry?”

Giles was hardly mollified. “Where is she now?” he demanded.

“Where’s who, Giles?” asked Buffy as she slid quietly into the kitchen.

Giles was instantly on his feet and embracing the young woman. “Are you all right, Buffy?” he demanded worriedly.

She grinned at him. “Of course I’m all right, Giles. Sir Gallahad and the knights of the wickedly round table charged in to save the day.”

“King *Arthur*,” Giles automatically corrected, causing Buffy’s smile to widen. Realizing that that had been her intention – distracting him – Giles sighed. “So Polovsky is dead, then?” he asked.

“*Way* dead,” confirmed Buffy. “Mac made a mess of him.”

“A mess?” Giles asked.

Buffy grimaced. Jager jumped in. “The Slayer’s mate rendered him into many unidentifiable pieces.”

The ‘Slayers mate’ reference caused Giles to venture a small smile. Stupid of him, really, to expect Mackenzie to care about anything that didn’t contribute to Buffy’s rescue, he knew.

Mac was fetching cups of coffee for Buffy and himself while this was going on.

“Any thoughts on how to get away with reporting Polovsky’s demise?” he asked Mulder and Scully. “The families of his victims deserve to now that their loved ones have been avenged, I think.”

Dana smiled at the immortal. ‘Of course,’ she decided. ‘Buffy’s safe. He can afford to be human now.’

“I thought we’d wait to see how the Sunnydale PD treated it,” offered Mulder. “Assuming they’re creative enough, Dana and I can come up with some way to connect their explanation to the Bay Area killer.”

Mac nodded thoughtfully. Mulder was one devious bastard, he decided. Imagine using the creative incompetence of the local constabulary to finish this up!

“Sounds good,” the immortal agreed. He turned to his friends from Seattle. “Well guys, you gonna stick around a while? You’re more than welcome.”

Duncan and Joe both shook their heads.

“We’ll fly back today. You two deserve a little quality time alone,” observed Duncan.

“We’ll be back for the wedding, though,” added Joe. Duncan nodded his agreement. “When is it going to be?”

Mac looked at Buffy.

“June,” she answered. “I always wanted to be a June bride.”

Joe smiled. “Then I guess we’ll be seeing you guys in a couple of months,” he replied.

“Is that enough time to plan, Buffy?” asked Dana. “Weddings are a lot of work, you know.”

“Well, I don’t want to wait until next year,” answered Buffy. “Besides, with Mom helping it’ll be long enough.”

“A big wedding?” Duncan asked.

Buffy smiled. “Yeah. But simple,” she added hastily, seeing the look on Mac’s face. “*Way* simple.”

Their friends all laughed.

Scene 2
L.A., Ca.
Los Angeles International Airport
1530, Saturday (Local)

With Mulder and Dana off coordinating between the LAPD and Sunnydale’s police department, and Thomas resting at the Keep under Giles’ supervision, Buffy and Mac took Duncan and Joe to the airport.

The friends all warmly embraced one another as they said their farewells. Eliciting a final promise from the young couple concerning invitations to the wedding, the Seattleites boarded their plane.

Buffy leaned against Mac, the two of them arm in arm, as their friends departed.

Once the plane lifted off, the affianced couple started back to their car, Buffy chatting busily about all the things they needed to do to be ready in time for June.

“June’s okay with you isn’t it sweetie?” she interrupted herself to ask.

“*Tomorrow’s* okay with me, Buffy,” Mac assured her. “Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?”

“Somewhere where there’s no one but us,” she informed him.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Sounds good.”

“But with room service,” she amended.

Mac looked at the beautiful young woman on his arm and smiled.

“Somewhere where there’s no one but us, but with room service,” he echoed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

Mulder and Scully were at that moment in conference with the Sunnydale PD Chief, one of his detectives, Sunnydale’s Mayor and two Los Angeles detectives.

“What makes you so sure that this guy was our killer?” one of the LAPD detectives demanded of Mulder. “There isn’t enough of him left in one piece to fill a doggie bag, much less identify!”

“The corpse had the knife we think was used on the Bay Area women,” pointed out Mulder. “And the keys to the car stolen from L.A. earlier this week.”

“That car was parked a block away. Prints in it and on the keys will, we think, match the partials pulled from the car stolen in San Francisco,” added Scully.

“If, will, we think,” echoed the Detective Palmer disgustedly. “Even if all that turns out to be true, how do we know that pizza boy is the guy in question? There’s still the little matter of finding enough of him to ID.”

“And who in hell did that number on him?” the other L.A. Detective wanted to know. “And where is *he*?”

“Gang-bangers,” inserted the Chief. “We have a big drug and gang problem down here.”

The two L.A. Detectives and the two federal agents shot him a disbelieving look.

“I suppose that’s possible...” allowed Mulder. ‘Idiot,’ he thought.

The Mayor silently echoed that sentiment. Attention from outside they didn’t need. Well, at least the two feds hadn’t said anything about vampires.

“Check the prints, guys. Then we’ll see where we are,” advised Mulder.

“But-” began Palmer.

“Given the brutality of ‘pizza boy’s’ execution, one might wonder if someone decided to go after a cop-killer,” speculated Scully.

That suggestion brought the men from L.A. up short. “Are you suggesting a cop did this?” Palmer demanded coldly.

“What we’re *suggesting*, Detective,” said Mulder, “ is that we have a strong suspicion that ‘pizza boy’ is our serial killer.”

The visiting detectives shared a look. The feds’ meaning was clear. They had some kind of personal knowledge that the corpse was the killer, that a cop had killed him and they were willing to let it go.

Not a typical fed attitude. Those bastards usually jumped at the chance to fry a local. Damn. Chalk one up for the good guys.

“All right,” said Palmer as he nodded slowly. “We’ll look into it.”

With that the two detectives stood up and left. On the ride back home the men would be seriously rehashing their opinion about the FBI. Maybe they weren’t all back-stabbing shits.

Back in the Chief’s office, the Feds and the locals were engaged in a staring contest. The Chief broke first.

“So, that’s it then,” he said.

“Not quite,” disagreed Mulder. “I don’t know what the two of you are up to here, but let me give you a little friendly advice,” he warned. “We’ve got friends here. Including, as of about five minutes ago, the LAPD.”

“Don’t give us a reason to concentrate our attention here, gentlemen,” threatened Scully. “If we come back, it’ll be with a task force comprising the DEA, FBI and IRS. And we’ll stay here a long, long time. Clear?”

The Chief turned pale, confirming the agents suspicion that the man was as dirty as a cop could get. The Mayor just gave them a bland smile.

“We understand, Agents. If that’s all, then please let me bid you good day.”

Scully and Mulder stood and left. Once in the car, the two of them traded observations about the men they’d left behind.

“Did you see what I saw in the Mayor’s eyes, Dana?” queried Mulder.

“Yes. That bastard really isn’t afraid of us at all. I wonder why?”

“Well, I’m wondering if we should have Mac talk to him,” Mulder suggested, grinning at the thought.

“Is there some reason you want the Mayor dead, Fox?”

Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
1930, Saturday (Local)

The five of them – Buffy, Mac, Thomas, Dana and Mulder – sat in the living room digesting dinner. The two couples were snuggling and talking quietly as Jager began drifting off to sleep.

Dana had decided the Watcher could go home the following day, and the two agents would fly home themselves.

“So, are you guys gonna make it to the wedding?” asked Buffy.

The invitation touched Dana deeply. She was a little amazed at how fond she’d become of the young woman in so short a time. And Mac seemed to approve of them in turn – though that approval was obviously tentative.

“Absolutely, we’ll come,” Dana answered for both herself and Fox.

Mulder canted his eyes at her. Damn, but Scully had gotten possessive quick. Which was a good thing, if unexpected. His only real question concerned how to make this work. Their enemies would be dancing in the streets if they learned about his and Dana’s change in status – the Bureau frowned on partners getting involved. It wasn’t outright *prohibited*, but...

Whatever. They’d work it out.

Besides, Mulder had an ally of his own now. He hoped.

“Mac?” he asked.

“Yeah, Mulder,” replied the immortal.

“The Consortium...” Mulder’s voice trailed away as Buffy gave him a venomous look.

Mac squeezed his fiancé’s hip and answered. “Send me the intel. I’ve got some friends who’re going to be particularly interested in this. I’ll come to D.C. And visit in a few weeks... I want to meet this ‘Cancerman’ of yours.”

Buffy didn’t look exactly thrilled by Mac’s promise. Small wonder – she and Mac seemed to be constantly dealing with some crisis or other.

‘Course, they probably always would be.

“Few weeks?” echoed Mulder.

“Yeah. Buffy and I want a little quiet time before we go charging into something new.” Hearing that, Buffy sighed and nuzzled his neck. “And I need a little time to get hold of a couple old friends,” Mac added.

“Mac, Buffy, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear about this whole Slayer/Watcher/Immortal thing,” asked Dana. “Where’d it start? I mean, Giles and Joe gave us the party line, but what’s your take?”

So Buffy and Mac settled in and shared a few war stories.

Scene 4
Washington, D.C.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
1100, Monday (Local)

A.D. Skinner closed the report and looked at his two agents.

“I don’t see anything here about vampires,” he noted with relief. Dawson’s warning had worried him.

“The vampires are being dealt with, sir,” replied Mulder.

“Come again?” asked Skinner, shocked. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more – Mulder’s bland reply or Scully nodding her head.

The two partners had decided that Skinner could be trusted with this part. He’d seen enough over the years as he supervised the two of them to know there were a lot of strange things out there. Buffy and Mac hadn’t been so sure, but had finally been willing to go along with the recommendation.

Of course, Mac was coming to Washington anyway. If he decided Skinner was a problem, he’d cease being a problem. Cease *being*, for that matter. Mulder thought Skinner could be of some help, though, and decided it was worth the risk to the A.D.’s life – not to mention his own – if he turned out to be wrong.

“I said the vampires are being dealt with. They’ve been here a long time, but they’re...being kept under control,” answered Mulder.

“Agent Scully, don’t tell me you believe this,” pleaded Skinner.

“Not every threat comes from people like Cancerman, sir,” she replied. “I saw one. A vampire.”

Skinner’s head turned back and forth between the two agents. “And these ‘vampires’ are being dealt with?” he asked.

Mulder nodded. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of his two agents, Skinner picked up the report.

“What about the serial killer? How can you be sure that the remains will turn out to be the right man?” he asked.

“We believe, based on the condition of the remains, that someone with a personal vendetta against him tried to render the corpse unidentifiable, sir,” answered Scully. “That person – also as yet unidentified – failed in some aspects. The keys, the car, the knife-”

“Or staged it,” Skinner interrupted. “Maybe the serial killer staged it himself in order to cover his tracks.”

“That possibility is discussed in our report, sir,” answered Scully.

“Based on the connections between the evidence on hand, and the fact that they tie all the way back to San Francisco, we find that to be unlikely.”

Skinner considered that for a moment and nodded. “All right. So who killed the serial killer?”

“We may never know,” Mulder answered.

Scene 5
Sunnydale, Ca.
The Bronze
1930, Monday (Local)

Buffy and Willow sat at their table and quietly talked about the preceding week’s events. Willow’s eyes got bigger and bigger as Buffy related her kidnapping and rescue.

“Oh my god!” gasped Willow. “I’d have died from the scare, Buffy. How’d you deal with it?”

“Mostly I just prayed Mac would find me, which he did, of course.”

Willow nodded. “Of course.”

“I tell you, when Thomas shot him I almost had a heart attack!” Buffy continued. “And then...”

As Buffy related the story to her best friend, she noticed Mark and his friend across the room. The two guys were staring at her and Willow.

Consequently, they completely missed seeing Mac slide up behind them.

The immortal laid a hand on the shoulder of each man and whispered something to them. If Buffy had blinked at the wrong moment, she would have missed the boys’ departure. She smiled as Mac walked up to their table with coffee for the three of them.

Buffy stood up to allow Mac to sit down. Then she sat in his lap. As one of his arms wrapped around her she turned and gave him a look.

“What?” her fiancé asked innocently.

Buffy smiled and gave him a quick kiss before turning back to Willow.

“So anyway, she said. “I’m thinking June...”

Epilogue

Six weeks later

Alexandria, Va.

1440-C Holmes Ave.

2315, Thursday (Local)

The man who had proven to be the bane of Scully and Mulder’s lives over the last seven years walked into his small, cheaply furnished apartment. It had been another long day. Sometimes he wished he had no knowledge of what was really happening in the world, no part to play.

The hand that darted out, closed on his shoulder and jerked him up into the air was unexpected to say the least. In moments, the man was gagged, bound to a chair and looking at two very disturbing individuals. Each was dressed in dark clothes, their faces covered by black ski masks. The powerful manipulator had just about decided he was being robbed when one of his attackers squatted down in front of him and began to speak.

“I don’t know you, you don’t know me,” said the flat, dead voice. “But you have something I want. I’ll stop the pain when you succeed in guessing what that is.”

The man Mulder had dubbed ‘Cancerman’ focused his eyes on a syringe that the attacker was about to inject him with. As the needle entered his arm, an intense burning sensation began to speed through his body from the point of entry. In moments the pain was almost unbearable.

Waiting for the cocktail of drugs to take effect, his interrogators sat patiently.

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