Daria sighed and pushed away the heavy Chemistry book. As interesting as it was, it couldn’t hold her attention tonight. Jane sat across from her in the booth, draped over her latest acquisition. “We came here to have fun, not study, Daria,” she smirked. “What’s the point of college if you don’t do the occasional party?” Leaning over, she nibbled on Jamie’s ear.
“There were some definite surprises in college,” Daria remarked. “Jane Lane dating a former football player is one of them.”
“Hey, I only played football so I could get Quinn’s attention,” Jamie protested. “If I had known what she was like, I would have stuck with photography. I just can’t believe I didn’t notice you, snugglebunny.”
“The same goes for me, doodlebear.”
“I need more tea to go with all this honey,” said Daria as she stood up and headed to the counter. Lawndale had finally fixed up the coffeehouse to attract local college students. So far it had worked. Mystik Spiral had played several times to packed houses as a townie band, and it had become the bright spot in Lawndale’s otherwise dull nightlife.
“I’ll have hot tea with sugar, please,” she said, digging the cash out of her jacket pocket. As her order was filled, she looked around, occasionally picking out a familiar face from Lawndale High. There was Brittany, with her new boyfriend. She had enrolled in the local community college after Kevin had won his football scholarship to the state school. Mack had broken up with Jodie when she left for Harvard. After the letter from Tom describing how he had fallen in love with Jodie, Daria understood why that relationship had crashed. Stacy, Quinn’s friend, was talking to a studious-looking boy that Daria remembered from English class.
“Tea with sugar,” called out the cashier, placing the styrofoam cup on the counter. Without looking, Daria reached over for it, only to find her fingers enclosed by someone’s hand. Startled, she looked up and saw a young man she recognized from her chemistry class.
“This one’s mine,” he said, with a slight smile. “The next one is yours.”
Daria studied him for a minute. “Oz, right?”
“That’s me. You’re Daria. You’re in my chemistry class.” He stood next to Daria, and she realized he was only a few inches taller than her. “Studying for the test?”
“Trying to. I can’t really concentrate here, but Jane wanted me to come out with her. I’m not sure why,” she concluded, with a baleful glance at the couple. Oz followed her gaze and laughed.
“I don’t think they’re getting much studying done.”
“Jane wasn’t trying to. It was another attempt to fix me up with her brother, Trent. He’s the lead singer in Mystik Spiral.”
“They’re not that bad. They need to work a little on the chord structure, though.”
“The lyrics could use some fine-tuning as well.”
Oz laughed again. “Listen, I was just about to move someplace quieter to study. Would you like to come?”
“Well . . .” Daria hedged, “Not that I don’t trust you, but can it be in a public spot?”
“Sure. I was thinking the pizza place down the street. I know they’re open late.”
“That works for me. Let me just tell Jane.” Oz followed Daria over to the booth. “Jane? Jamie? Guys? Hey, break it up!” When the two separated, Daria continued. “Jane, this is Oz. He’s in my chemistry class. We’re going to grab some pizza and do some studying.”
“But the band’s about to take a break. Trent and Max wanted to talk to you about another late-night gig. Trent says there’s some new blood in town and he wants to check it out.”
“What do you think?” Oz shrugged, and Daria gave a small smile in return. “Well, I guess we can stay long enough for a brief conversation with the band.”
“With Jesse, that’s all you get anyway,” said Jane, cuddling close to Jamie.
“We’re Mystik Spiral. We’ll be back for the second set in about fifteen minutes. Nobody leave.” The band set down their instruments and went over to the booth. Trent took a seat on the other side of his sister, and the others crowded into the other seat. “Hey, Daria. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
“I’ve been busy. Guys, this is Oz. Oz, that’s Trent, and that’s Jesse, Max and Nick. They’re Mystik Spiral,” she finished, with a passable imitation of Trent’s hoarse tenor.
“Hey, Daria. Why haven’t we gotten together? Trent heard about a few new acts in town.” Max eagerly grabbed the beer that the waitress brought over, draining it halfway before he continued. “It’s not the same without you.”
“We’ll talk about it later, Max. The town’s been pretty quiet recently, anyway. I’ve been studying a lot the last week. Speaking of which, I have a test tomorrow, so I have to go. It was nice seeing you guys again,” she said as she collected her books. “See you in the apartment, Jane.” Oz walked out beside her, neither of them talking to each other until they were halfway to the pizza place.
“You’re not much for long-winded conversation, are you?” Oz mentioned, glancing over at her.
“Not really.”
“Me either.”
The two sat down at a booth and ordered cokes. “Do you want something to eat?” Oz asked as he flipped through the menu.
“Let’s order a Veggie Deluxe.”
“That works for me.” They placed the order and pulled out the chemistry books and notebooks. “We’re on atomic theories, right?”
“Yeah. I’ve had problems nailing them down because my high school didn’t offer chemistry. We just went over the basics in senior science, ‘This is an atom’ and stuff like that. I guess I could have studied some on my own, but it never really interested me. I’m more of an English person.”
“How were you at history?”
“Pretty good. Why?”
“Think of this as the history of chemistry. As worldviews changed, there were changes in atomic theory. I guess we should start off with Aristotle’s theory.” The two went through the material until the pizza arrived. Daria picked up a slice and began to eat. By the time she had finished her slice, Oz had demolished half of the pizza. He looked at her a little sheepishly as he reached for another piece. “Ever since my junior year in high school, I’ve been constantly hungry. My ex-girlfriend used to say that I ate like a wolf with a tapeworm.” Oz caught his breath sharply. “That’s the first time I’ve ever referred to Willow as my ex-girlfriend,” he said softly, his eyes sad. Daria started to speak, but thought better of it. Oz shook himself. He pulled his book toward him. “So, anyway, back to Dalton.”
_________________
“Jane and I share an apartment, over on Fifth St. Neither of us has a car, so we had to be within walking distance of the school.”
“That’s actually pretty close to my place. Do you want a ride?”
“Sure. Jamie drove us down, and he and Jane have probably left already.”
The pair headed back to the coffeehouse, which was starting to close. Daria stopped abruptly at the sight of the van. “That’s your car?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t nickname it ‘Tank’, by any chance, did you?”
“No. Although a friend once suggested I name it ‘Mystery Machine’. It’s a long story.”
“Oz?”
“Yeah?”
“I enjoyed tonight.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“We should do it again sometime.”
“Definitely. What night’s good for you?”
“Thursday?”
“I’ll pick you up around six.” Oz stopped the van in front of Daria’s building.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Jane, have you seen my black jeans?” Daria rummaged through her closet. Dating Tom had forced her to expand her wardrobe, but she still preferred her old high school uniform most of the time. “I thought they were in here.”
“Have you done laundry since last week?”
“No.”
“Then they’re dirty. Here, wear these instead.”
“Can I borrow your green sweater?”
“Wow, this is a special occasion. You really like this guy, don’t you?”
“Jane, this is only our first date.”
“This is me, Daria. Level with me.”
“OK, OK.” She sat down to brush out her hair. “I think I could possible like him very easily. But I don’t want to jinx it early on by saying anything. Besides, there are some things I need to find out first.”
“Fair enough. I’ll go get my sweater.” A knock on the door sent Daria running back to her room, and Jane chuckled as she answered. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Daria’s almost ready. Do you want to wait for her inside?”
“Sure.” Oz walked into the room, taking in the easel set up in the corner. “Who’s the artist?”
“I am. Daria lets me paint in here because the light is better. So, what are you studying?”
“Psychology. I’m really interested in the power the mind has over the body. Plus it lets me take classes in several fields of study, so I get to see a little bit of everything.”
“Where are you from?”
“A place out in California, called Sunnydale.”
“What brings you all the way out here, to Lawndale?”
“I left after a semester of college in California. Some stuff happened, and I needed to get away. I just wandered around the world a little. Then I got back into the college mood and since I happened to be here at the time, decided to stay for awhile.”
“Oz?”
“Hey. You look nice.” Daria blushed as he opened the door for her.
“Jane, I’ll be back around . . .when will we back?” At Oz’s shrug, she continued, “Sometime before dawn, I guess.”
“Have fun, you crazy kids,” laughed Jane. As the door closed, Jane headed for her canvas. This was a moment meant to be captured in time.
“So, where to?”
“There doesn’t seem to be much to do in Lawndale. I figured we could grab something to eat, then go somewhere and talk. Is that all right?”
“That’s good. Pizza?”
“This time.”
“You’re already planning a next time?”
“I’m an optimist.”
They ordered a large pizza and sat down in the same booth as before. In an unspoken agreement, they kept away from the personal topics, sticking to discussions on the various classes they were taking. They had almost escaped without notice when Daria heard a sinkingly familiar voice.
“Hi, Daria!” Brittany smiled brightly at the two in their booth. “Have you met my boyfriend James?”
“Hello, Brittany. Yes, I have. Twice, in fact.”
“I was just wondering, whatever happened to Tom? You know, Jane’s boyfriend? Or was he your boyfriend? I can never remember.”
“Tom is dating Jodie now.”
“Oh, OK. Who are you?”
“I’m Oz.”
“Nice to meet you! I’m Brittany. Daria and I went to Lawndale High together.”
“That’s nice to know.”
“Babe, we’re gonna be late for the movie.”
“All right. Bye, Daria! Bye, Oz!”
Daria rolled her eyes. “Good-bye, Brittany.” When the blond was out of earshot, she leaned across the table and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “Can we leave now? I don’t want to run across anyone else from high school.”
“Walk in the park?”
“Sounds good.” Daria and Oz silently headed towards the park on foot, walking side by side. When they were in the relative seclusion of the trees, Oz resumed the conversation. “So, who’s Tom?”
“Tom is my ex-boyfriend and Jane’s ex-boyfriend. Is it time to start baring my soul yet?”
“If you feel ready.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t feel ready. I don’t like to let my walls down. But you’re different. I feel like you understand me completely. Well, here we go.” Daria took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Tom was a really nice guy. He went out with Jane at first. Then they broke up and he asked me out. Intellectually, it was a match made in heaven. We could talk for hours about things you can’t really discuss with anyone in Lawndale. But . . .there just wasn’t any emotion. He couldn’t understand my actions, and he thought my ambitions were ridiculous. We should never have tried to become more than friends. Then he went to Harvard and met Jodie, and that was that. All right, your turn.”
“For what?”
“To bare your soul. I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”
“I don’t really know where to start. It’s funny; in Sunnydale I was always the strong silent type. I knew what to say in three words or less. But now it’s different. Are you sure you want to hear this? I have lots of layers to go through.”
“Whatever you want to say, say it.”
“All right. I guess I’ll talk about Willow first. She used to be my girlfriend, back in Sunnydale. I think I truly loved her. She was sweet, and funny, and she had this wonderful inner strength. But things change, I guess. I left because I was afraid I would hurt her, and then I stayed away because she found someone new. We’re still friends, and we write. But it hurt to make that transition.”
“A change like that does hurt for a while. It’s nowhere near the same, but I used to like Trent. A lot. Most of it was the image, I guess, the cool guitarist with the hoarse, sexy voice. When we became friends, I realized that there was nothing there that I could really connect. We had nothing in common apart from our muses. He’s not dumb, but between the age factor and the non-communication, the differences are too much to climb. Losing that ideal hurt for a long time, well into my relationship with Tom.” Daria shivered a bit as a light wind blew over them.
“Here,” offered Oz, taking off his coat and handing it to her. She protested, but then accepted it.
“Thanks,” she said shyly. She burrowed her nose into the jacket. “It smells nice.”
“Do you want to continue baring your soul? Or should we move indoors?”
“I think indoors. Your place?”
“Works for me.”
“Is this Willow?” Daria picked up a framed picture from his desk.
“Yeah, that’s her. The blond next to her is her friend Buffy, and the guy’s Xander.”
“Buffy?”
“Yeah, her mother picked it out. She’s really . . .different.”
“Different? How”
“She’s . . .been through a lot. Works late nights to keep things under control.”
“I guess she’s a really special person. Do you have a picture of your family?”
“Yeah, it’s over here. My dad died when I was just a little kid, so it was just me and Mom.”
“You two got along pretty well?”
“Yeah, we’re real close. I call her from time to time, let her know how I’m doing.”
“I wish my family could be like that.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I can stand my sister now that she’s discovered she has a mind. My mother is a workaholic. My dad is sweet, but out of touch. I moved out as soon as I legally could.”
“It was that bad?”
“‘Why can’t you be like Quinn, Daria?’ ‘How old are you again, Daria?’ ‘You’re going to embarrass me, Daria.’ I was either ignored completely or being forced to fit into a mold that wasn’t me. But Aunt Amy took me in afterward, helped me through some things I was going through, and Jane and I set up the apartment. I had enough scholarships to cover my education, and between selling Jane’s paintings and doing some freelance writing, we manage to pay the rent.”
“I didn’t know you wrote. What kind of things do you write?”
“A little bit of everything. I wrote papers for people for a while, because it’s a surefire way to get a little money. I’ve done some lyric work, and wrote a lot of private poetry that I haven’t tried to publish. There’s also been some short story work.”
“I’ve written a little, mostly lyric work. Would you ever share some of your poetry with me?”
“Maybe. It’s a little dark, though. I don’t let many people read it.” Daria looked down, unaccustomed to this openness. “It’s your turn again.”
“Do you want some tea?” Oz moved into his tiny kitchen. “I’m in the mood for some English Breakfast. Which, incidentally, the English do not drink.”
“Are you stalling?”
“Trying to nerve myself up, actually. It’s hard to tell the next one.” He poured the boiling water into a battered clay teapot. “I picked this up while I was in Tibet. It’s been one of the few things that survived my journeys intact. Sugar?”
“Yes, please.” They took the tea back into the living area and settled onto an air mattress on the floor.
“Sorry there’s no chair. I haven’t had time to buy furniture.” Oz took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat. “I cheated on Willow. That was part of the reason I left. I wasn’t really myself when it happened, and I regretted it immediately. But it was done.”
“Why did you cheat on her?”
“The other girl, Veruca, had some surface commonalities. I thought that she understood me better; saw the darkness a little more clearly. Then she went after Willow. After it was all over, I realized I had to leave. I went back once, and she had moved on. I did the same thing, eventually.”
“Any more secrets?”
“The others are more like entire-day discussions. New topic?”
“Name it.”
They talked about childhood events, discussed music and religions, then moved into reading preferences. Daria took a sip of her tea, grown cold long ago, and grimaced, then glanced at her watch.
“Do you have any classes tomorrow?”
“No, I set up my schedule so I could be free on Fridays to fool around. Why?”
“Because tomorrow’s now today,” said Daria, pointing at her watch. “I better get home.”
“Want to meet at the coffeehouse this afternoon?”
“Sure. I think I’ll walk home, though, since its two blocks away.”
“You still shouldn’t walk home alone. They make horror movies that start off like this.”
“I’ll be fine. This is one of the quietest towns in existence. Besides, I’ve taken a self-defense class.” She was out of the door before Oz could lodge another protest. He hesitated, then grabbed a jacket and headed after her.
The street outside was quiet, and Daria was walking rapidly along the sidewalk. Oz walked behind her, staying with the shadows. She stopped once and glanced behind her, then continued her short trip to the squat apartment building that was her home.
“You’re sure he said he would meet you here?” Jane had to shout her question over the amplified tones of Mystic Spiral.
“Yeah.” Daria looked down at the table. “I think I’ve been stood up.”
“Well, stay anyway. Have fun. Teach that boy a lesson.”
“I don’t think so, Jane. I’d like to go crawl into someplace dark until this feeling goes away. Thanks anyway.”
“Well, at least stay during the band’s break. Trent wanted to talk to you.”
“We’re Mystic Spiral. We don’t have a second set tonight. Instead, we introduce you guys to Oz.” As the band left the stage, Oz came out, an electric guitar in hand.
“Hey,” he said, after he had adjusted the microphone to his height. “I’d like to dedicate this performance to Daria.” With that he launched into a solo cover of “You Really Got Me”.
Trent, Jane, and Max all grinned at Daria as she blushed hotly. “You guys planned this, didn’t you? You do realize, of course, that you are all dead.”
“He wanted to do something special for you. So I hooked him up with Trent, and he and the band cooked this up,” Jane smirked. Daria attempted to cover them all with a menacing glare, but couldn’t quite keep a little smile down. “So, spill. What happened last night?”
“We just . . .talked. First at the pizza place, and then we went over to his apartment.”
“You stayed out until dawn talking?”
“Yes.” Daria’s eyes traveled back to the stage. Oz was immersed in his playing, and Daria felt a chill run down her back.
“What did you talk about?”
“Everything,” she replied, her eyes not leaving the lone figure on stage.
“Even about . . .ow! Max, that was uncalled for!”
“We’re in public, Jane. Maybe you should refrain from mentioning her deepest secrets.”
“I’m saving that information for a later day. Say, around ten years from now. I have to talk with Aunt Amy about something first. He followed me home last night to make sure I was safe, but he doesn’t think I know. There’s something unusual about his scent.”
“Feel like sharing?”
“It’s not mine to share yet.”
Jane probably would have continued her probing, but Oz finished his song right then. “Now, to your delight, I would like to say that Trent was kidding when he said there would only be one set. Back for their second set, here’s Mystic Spiral.” There was some scattered applause from the sparse crowd as Oz left the stage and joined Daria and Jane.
“So, what did you think?” Daria’s reply was to lean over and give Oz a quick kiss. “Wow. So what where you guys talking about while I was up there?”
“I told you about my Aunt Amy, right? I was talking about calling her and asking her if she can pull some strings in the art world for Jane. She’s an art appraiser for many of the larger galleries in New York. I really need to do that tonight. I’m sorry to cut our night so short, but she leaves for Romania next week and I need take care of this. Do you mind?”
“No. Go ahead.”
"See you maybe Sunday night?”
“No, I’m . . .busy that night. Big psychology project that I’ve been putting off.”
“Class Monday?”
“Sure. You want a ride home?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Oz reached for her hand, and the two walked out of the dimly lit coffee house into the night. They climbed into the van, each lost in their own thoughts. The drive back was quiet but companionable, and after he parked the van at her curb, he leaned over and kissed her. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. Threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, he kissed her back, but was stopped by sudden pain in his left hand and jerked it back, turning the light on and examining it.
“You must have caught it on my necklace. Here, let me look.” Daria took his hand and looked at it closely. “It looks a little bad. Do you have any water in here? You should clean that out.”
“Glove compartment,” he muttered through clenched teeth. She reached in and pulled a small bottle out, but dropped it under the driver’s seat before she could open it. After retrieving the bottle, she doused the wound liberally and dried it with the edge of his shirt.
“You better get home and take care of that,” she said, kissing him gently and stepping out onto the curb. She watched him pull away, an odd expression on her face, then headed into the building and up the stairs.
“Yeah, Aunt Amy, I’m fairly certain. He has an increased metabolism, he hides himself during the full moon, and you have to hear what happened tonight. We were in the van and he caught his hand on the silver cross you gave me. Very little blood, but his hand turned red almost immediately. He told me to get out the bottle of water in his glove compartment, and when I reached in I saw a cross and a stake. I dropped the bottle of water under his seat, and there was a crossbow there. I cleaned out the wound, he left, and I called you.” Daria took off her glasses and placed them on her nightstand. “Oz has an unusual scent. Not unpleasant, a little musky. A little like Logan’s.”
“I think you’re right about him being a werewolf, then. You said you had several questions. What else?”
“His van is a banquet of smells. His own; one human male, I’m assuming his friend Xander; one non-scent, like Jane has, possibly his ex-girlfriend Willow; one female that was very unusual.” She paused, then continued. “I’ve never smelled someone like this, but at the same time it felt familiar. I think that was his friend Buffy.”
“A rather strong scent, fear and adrenaline and sweat mixed in?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the scent of a Slayer. It should seem familiar to you every time you catch the scent. Anything else?”
“He’s had an injured vampire in there within the past six months.” She took off her jacket and laid it across her chair, then bent down to unlace her boots.
“You’re sure?”
Daria snorted. “I think I can recognize the scent of vampire blood. This was a little different though. I think it was souled.”
“You have the uncanny ability to pick up the most unique ones. Does he pose a danger to you?”
“I don’t think so. He may be a wolf, but he’s sincere. I don’t think he can sense me. After all, I don’t pose a direct threat to any of the creatures of the night. It’s not like I’m a Slayer.”
“Just be careful, Daria. They all attract others, even the benevolent ones.”
“I always am, Amy. Is it all right to . . .?”
“As long as you both know the whole truth. Are you going back out tonight?”
“Trent and Max are both busy tonight. They said tomorrow would be better, anyway. The moon will be brighter, but not quite full. By the way, Jane was wondering if you’ve found a place for any of her paintings yet.”
“Someplace out in California is interested. I’ll let her know.”
“That reminds me. Oz also mentioned coming from someplace called Sunnydale.”
“Sunnydale? You sure like things complicated, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sunnydale is a magnet for the supernatural. Directly underneath the library of a high school, there’s an opening called the Hellmouth. The strongest Slayer is always stationed there, to keep things under control. It’s too dangerous for most of us.”
“Gotcha. Listen, I’m getting off. I haven’t touched my writing this week. Cassandra Williams has a book due soon. Talk to you later, Amy.”
“Later.”
“So what did she have to say?” Jane came out of her room and plopped down on the couch.
“It looks like we’re going to start packing a tranquilizer gun. Oz is a werewolf, and even good werewolves attract others. The town he’s from is something of a hotspot for supernatural activity. And he’s friends with a Slayer.”
“He should have no problem fitting in with us, anyway. What about my paintings?”
“A gallery out in California is interested.”
“Does this mean a visit to that hotspot?”
“Not unless you plan on a permanent stay in one of the many local graveyards.”
“But if you now have three powerful guardians, maybe we can handle it. Let’s try it if they take my paintings, so I can see my work on a gallery wall. Please?”
“What will you tell Jamie?”
“I’m not quite sure. Jamie is wonderful, but I don’t know how to tell him everything. I mean, what would I say? ‘Jamie, pumpkin, my best friend tracks supernatural creatures, my brother is a souled vampire, Max is immortal and Oz is a werewolf. Is that okay?’ I just don’t see him taking it well.”
“Try him. He might surprise you.”
“Are we going out tomorrow night?”
“Trent, Max and I are going out. You are going to stay someplace safe. Amy’s still looking for someone to mentor you. Until then, it’s too dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous for you!”
“But I’m a Tracker. The danger is less for me. Besides, if there’s not much activity Max is going to work with me on my sword skills. That year with Duncan worked wonders on our little ‘criminale’.”
“What does he have to say?”
“Amy didn’t mention him, so things are either going smoothly or have crashed terribly. Jane, I need to work on my book tonight. The deadline is coming up soon. Unless you fancy eating Vienna sausages in your parents home, I should hurry up and finish it.”
“I need some sleep anyway. I stayed up last night waiting for you so I could hear how your date went.”
Spike inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, and then exhaled. It was more for image than anything else, but the simple act kept down the nerves.
The Slayer and her crew had been somewhat of a safety net, now that his mayhem was limited to nonhumans. Stepping away from that into uncertainty gave him unwanted jitters. “I don’t need the bloody Slayer, or her friends,” he told himself, putting his cigarette out and eyeing the back entrance of the blood bank that existed in every college town. He was ready to move in when a sudden punch set him momentarily reeling. “Oh, bloody hell, not another one!” When his vision cleared, he saw a trio standing in front of him. He felt his face morph and instinctively went toward the one who seemed the most vulnerable, only to be stopped by the feeling of cold steel against his neck. “I was just kidding, I swear. I couldn’t hurt her if I tried.” The taller one gave a small chuckle.
“No kidding. It looks like Max made sure of that.”
“Is that a calvary saber? I haven’t seen one of those in a long time.”
“Yeah, well, you won’t be seeing one again.” He raised his hand back for a lopping stroke.
“No! Wait! I was serious when I said I couldn’t hurt anyone. I’m just looking for someone. And for a bite to eat.”
The girl motioned for the man to hold his sword and moved closer, her gray eyes studying him intently. Moving too fast for him to stop her, she pulled out a knife and put it through his shoulder.
“Ow! Hey, I liked that jacket! Damn Slayers, think they have the right to do anything to you.”
“Stop whining,” said the girl, swiping a little blood and sniffing it delicately. “And I’m not a Slayer. How old are you? Around 115?”
“117 next May. Look, if you’re not a Slayer, what are you?”
The girl slipped her knife back into its holster at her belt. “You can let him go Max. He was telling the truth. He’s not souled, but for some reason he can’t hurt any human. Only demons. What’s your name?”
“Spike.”
“Well, Spike, if you’re as old as you say you are, you must surely have run into someone like me before. I’m a Tracker.”
“So?”
“I can track the supernatural beings. Sniff them out, as it were. If you know about the Slayers, then think of it this way. We’re the brains meant to accompany the Slayer’s brawn. Now it’s your sharing time. Why can’t you hurt humans?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Spike grinned sardonically. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to get to.” He turned around to leave and was startled when the tall one suddenly appeared in front of him. “How did you . . .oh. Got yourself a pet vampire, love?”
Trent growled softly, his face distorted. “I’m nobody’s pet. Get it right, because I don’t feel the need to keep you safe from Max.”
“Trent.” Daria laid a hand on his arm, never looking away from his face. “Why don’t you go get Spike here some food? Max and I will talk to him.” Trent reluctantly turned away, reverting his face to normal. Daria shook her head regretfully. “Before the change, he was the calmest, most laid back person I knew. I don’t know what I would have done if . . . nevermind. Now, Spike, why don’t you take part in this time of sharing? Then we’ll let you run off to wherever you want to be.”
“Aren’t you afraid to do this without your little boyfriend? After all, this guy is just human.”
“I’m afraid not. He’s just not a vampire. Oh, and Trent’s just a friend. Not a boyfriend. If my real boyfriend heard you say that, you’d be a pile of ash on the floor. Look, I’m really not into this whole interrogation thing, so could you just tell me what you know? Then Trent will give you your dinner, and we’ll all be on our way.”
“I don’t want to.”
Daria sighed. “Look, pouting won’t do you a bit of good. Look, I’ll give you a special treat. Some of my blood, with Max’s thrown in for body. You won’t find a better tasting blood mixture anywhere. Isn’t that right, Trent?”
“It’s a great energy booster. Much better than plain old cold O positive.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Would you listen to yourself? You sound like a two year old. And I know quite well that you are hungry. I can smell it. Come on, for me?”
“Blood first, then talk.”
“No, cold blood first, then talk, then you get your treat. Just like dessert.”
“Deal.” Spike reached out his hands to receive the bag from Trent and sucked it down eagerly. “Mmm, that hit the spot.”
“Still hungry?”
“Yeah!”
“Why can’t you hurt humans?”
“Government project. They put an implant in my head that makes my head hurt if I even bruise someone.”
“Very good! Who are you looking for?”
“An old acquaintance. I wanted him to put me up for a bit.”
“Where did you come from?”
“I was in a town called Sunnydale.”
“Why did you leave the Hellmouth?”
“I’m looking for someone who can fix me back. I miss my mayhem. Besides, I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground and there’s something big coming. I like being in one piece, and I’ll stay that way away from Sunnydale.”
“At least you’re honest. Reward time, he’s been a good vampire. Max, you have a container on you?”
“Some old beer bottles in the Tank.”
“Trent?”
“I have this.” Trent pulled out a hipflask. “Just let me empty it out.”
“It already had blood in it, so there shouldn’t be an aftertaste. I’ll do the honors first.” Daria pulled out her knife, flinching a little as she ran it crosswise across her left wrist. She filled it halfway, then closed her hand against it. “Your turn, Max,” she said faintly. Max did his part quickly, then turned his bleeding wrist onto Daria’s. The few drops of immortal blood helped the wound close up; leaving a long scar that would fade over the next few days. Trent swirled the mixture around and handed it to Spike, who was watching Max’s wound heal with a little astonishment.
“Immortal?”
“Yeah. Just finished my studies.”
Spike brought the flask to his mouth and took a long drink. “You weren’t kidding! You better watch out, little girl. If I ever get this out, I’ll be after your blood in a heartbeat. You’d make a lovely vampire. A little deranged, but lovely.”
“You would try.”
“Well, it’s been all bloody good fun, but I think I’ll be off.” Spike moved out into the shadows and disappeared. Trent started to follow him, but Daria stopped him.
“Let him go. We’ve got bigger problems to worry about.”
“Yeah, Amy, I’ll talk to him tomorrow afternoon. I guess we’ll leave shortly after. Yeah, I’ll take the cell phone. You’d think we’d be telepathic to each other, or something cool like that. Later.” Daria hung up the phone. “Well Jane, looks like you’ll be getting your wish. Amy received an e-mail from the Southern couple that confirms what our new friend Spike told me tonight, and she agrees with me. We’ve got to break this up now. So I have to have my heart to heart with Oz a little sooner than I had anticipated. Oh, and the gallery bought your paintings at a very cool $500 apiece.”
“I get to go, right?”
“You still need a mentor, but Amy said that the current Watcher in Sunnydale has connections for that. So, you can go. Hopefully Oz is willing to come along.”
“You’re talking to him after chemistry, right?”
“Hopefully.”
“Well, at least you know he’s used to this sort of thing. It won’t be quite the surprise it was to Tom. How is he, anyway?”
“I got a letter from Jodie last week. They’re engaged.”
“It looks like he recovered from it all.”
Oz opened the door.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Go away, Spike.”
“That’s no way to treat an old friend. How about this: If you don’t let me in, I’ll scream bloody murder until the neighbors all wake up.”
Oz sighed. “Fine. Come in, Spike.”
“Now that’s more like it,” Said Spike, swaggering into the tiny apartment. “Nice place you got here. Kinda homey, if you ignore the lack of furniture. So, what’s up with this town? I ran into this girl, and she didn’t seem to care for me. One of her blokes nearly beheaded me, as a matter of fact.”
“Not exactly sorry for you.”
“What’s with you? Shouldn’t you be a little shaggier by now?”
“Not anymore.”
“Find a cure?”
“I can control it completely on every night but the full moon.”
“So why aren’t you back with Red?”
Oz shrugged. “She found somebody else. I got over it. I found somebody else.”
“Does this new someone know about you?”
“No.”
“Planning on telling ‘er?”
“Soon.”
“You’re as talkative as ever, I see. Mind if I bed down here?”
“Go ahead.”
Oz slipped into a seat next to Daria, ten minutes late. “Rough night?”
“You could say that.” He rubbed blearily at his eyes. “My research fell apart.”
Daria looked at him sharply, but said nothing. The professor went on, enthusiastically extolling the virtues of the Neils Bohr model as Oz nodded off.
“Can I borrow your notes?” Oz asked as he followed Daria out the door when the class had ended.
“Is this your last class of the day?”
“For today, yeah. Why?”
“Can you come over to my apartment? I need to talk to you.”
“Right now?”
“It’s kind of important.”
Jane’s suitcases were by the door when they came in. “Daria, do you know how long this is going to take? I’m not sure how many art supplies to bring along. Hey, Oz.”
“Hey. Going on a trip?”
“A gallery in California bought several of my paintings.”
“That’s great, Jane.”
“Jane, I’m not sure how long we’ll be there. Bring your paints and sketchbook, but leave the canvases. Could you leave us alone for awhile?”
“Sure. I’ll just go out for a run.”
When Jane had closed the door behind her, Daria turned to Oz. “I have something to tell you. Well, several somethings. And they might be a little surprise to you.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend waiting for you on the West Coast, do you?” Oz teased.
“No. I . . .I’ll just come straight out with it. I know you’re a werewolf.”
“Where’d you get an idea like that?”
“That’s part of the next something. I know that you know about the Slayers, so here’s a quick history lesson. A long time ago, before the Watchers Council got all power hungry, they were many more Slayers. Hundreds, in fact. And every Slayer had, working with her, someone called a Tracker. That’s what I am.”
“So . . .”
“That’s how I know you’re a werewolf. I can track nearly all supernatural creatures, mostly through smell. I didn’t place it until the Thursday night, because my encounters have mostly been with vampires, so I had to talk to Amy to make sure. She’s the Tracker from the last generation. I inherited the responsibility on my eighteenth birthday.”
“What else can you do?”
“Do you want the full scoop? All right, here it goes. I have some latent telepathic abilities towards the supernatural. I can smell the difference between a souled vampire and a common variety vampire. And I have a natural immunity to the supernatural.”
“What does that mean?”
“Magic will not work on me, first off. I’m not sure how it works exactly, it’s like I’m coated with Magic Teflon and it just slides off. And I can’t be changed into a vampire or a werewolf or any other supernatural being. That immunity and my speed are my only physical defenses against them. I actually have less physical strength than other people.”
“Why did you decide to tell this to me now?”
Daria sighed. “Here’s where it gets really sticky. Did you happen to have a houseguest by the name of Spike?”
“He said he was just passing through. He left yesterday evening. How’d you know?”
“We were out hunting Saturday night. The nightlife in this town isn’t that active, but every vampire we stop keeps an untold number of people a little safer. Anyway, we ran across Spike getting ready to break into the blood bank. We offered a deal and got information from him. There’s some big stuff going down in Sunnydale. Amy’s sending us to help out, and we’d like you to come with us.”
“Okay, I’m confused.” Oz sat down on the couch, running his fingers through his already messy hair. “Who’s we?”
“Well, there’s Jane, who’s a natural witch. We’re looking for a mentor, but there aren’t really any witches on the East Coast. They all left with the Salem trials. Then there’s Trent, who’s a souled vampire, and Max, who’s an Immortal. Trent and Max do the part a Slayer would, except we aren’t telepathically linked. Together, we-”
“Telepathically linked?”
“It’s another nice plus from the old days. We could hunt down the vampires without detection because we made no noise. Up until the Watcher Council took control, the teams of Trackers and Slayers had Europe under control.”
“I wonder if Giles knows about this. He was Buffy’s watcher, until she broke off from their control. Now he’s more like an advisor.”
“I wonder if Amy knows. She has some contacts with ex-Watchers, and says most of them aren’t aware of the whole history, just about the ‘one girl chosen from each generation to fight evil’ thing. Of course, that’s not the kind of thing they would brag about. Buffy should be their strongest Slayer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The strongest Slayer always guards the Hellmouth.”
“Still confused.”
“It’s a lot of information to take in at one time.”
“But I think I’ll join you on your trip to Sunnydale.” Oz leaned over and kissed Daria gently. She responded by kissing him back.
“Hey, don’t let me interrupt anything.” Jane grinned at the two of them. “So, is Oz coming along on our little adventure? Because our plane leaves in an hour.”
“I don’t think I can afford a plane ticket.”
“Amy already took care of it. She had a feeling you would go.”
“I’ve got to meet Amy sometime. Is there time for me to pack some clothes?”
“If you hurry. You won’t mind missing your classes, will you?”
“Chemistry. I sit next to a cute brunette.”
The plane touched down in LA at 11 pm. Trent was dispatched to rent a van and the little group was soon on the road toward Sunnydale.
“So, will there be any surprises when we get there? Other than a possible vampire attack,” Daria asked, stretching out next to Oz on the back seat.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he said, capturing her hand and weaving their fingers together. “I think Anya might set off a little something. She used to be a demon. And you never know if Angel will show up for a close encounter of the souled vampire kind.”
“What kind of demon was Anya?”
“Vengeance demon. The medallion she got her powers from was smashed, so now she’s just a really blunt teenager.” The two sat in contented silence together for a while before Oz continued. “Thanks for telling me everything, Daria.”
“You’re welcome, Oz. Can I ask you something else?”
“You already did, silly.”
“Will you be all right when you see Willow again? Will I just fade into the background?”
“Daria, Willow and I are just friends now. It took a long time for me to make that change, but now it’s permanent. You have nothing to worry about.” The two kissed.
“We’re here.” Max steered the van down a quiet residential street, stopping in front of a small old world-style place.
“Nobody get out,” instructed Daria, cracking open the window and taking a deep breath, her eyes tightly closed as she concentrated. “There’s one vampire nearby, but it smells like he’s souled. He’s crouched in the bushes outside. Trent, you should go introduce yourself.”
“Why me?”
“You’re closest to the door. Besides, you’re a souled vampire, he’s a souled vampire, you should get along famously.”
“That’ll be Angel. He and Buffy have this tortured, forbidden romance thing going on, and he likes to be Mr. Stealthy-in-the-bushes.”
Trent returned shortly, followed by a tall vampire. The group piled out onto the sidewalk.
“Oz.”
“Angel.”
“How did you guys know I was here?”
“Ever hear of the Trackers?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now you’re seeing one.”
“As fun as this is, maybe we should go inside, seeing as we are in the town with the highest death rate in the world.”
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”
Jane headed for the door, followed by the rest of the group, and rang the bell.
“Hi, the temp agency sent us. Something about the Slayer gearing up for a major battle, and needing all the help she can get. Do I have the right address?”
The older man who had answered the door adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “You need help, we are that help. Here, I’ll prove I’m not a vampire.” She marched into the house, receiving stares from the group assembled inside. “What?”
“I apologize for Jane. I thought Amy was going to call and tell you we were coming.”
“Who’s Amy?”
“Amy Barksdale, the last Tracker in my family. You do know about the Trackers, don’t you?”
“Perhaps you had better come in.”
“Wipe your feet, you guys,” Jane instructed the group, moving into the house. She was followed by Oz and Max, then looked back at her brother, who was looking at her with one raised eyebrow “Oh, right. Can you invite the other two in?”
“Well, yes, um, come in,” Giles said, a bit taken aback at her brashness. Trent moved into the room, followed by a hesitant Angel.
“Is it just me, or did the tension level just move to ‘uncomfortable’?”
“I’ll start off with introductions. I’m Daria, that’s Jane, this is Trent, the bald guy is Max, and I assume everyone knows Angel and Oz.”
“Buffy.”
“Willow.”
“Xander.”
“Anya.”
“Oh, yes, I’m Rupert Giles. I’m sorry, what did you say you were?”
“Don’t you Watchers every study anymore?” Daria sighed and moved over to an empty seat. “I’m a Tracker.”
“What’s a Tracker?” Buffy looked over at Giles. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“A Tracker was once the natural companion to the Slayer. She can sense the supernatural, locate them easily, and telepathically tell the Slayer where they are,” Angel said from his location near the door. “The Watcher Council tried to keep knowledge of them to a minimum when they couldn’t be controlled.”
“That’s pretty much it, in a nutshell. There’s some other stuff, but it comes down to teams of a Tracker and a Slayer being an unstoppable force against the powers of darkness.”
“What do you mean by teams?”
“Look, can we get some food? We were on a plane for around ten hours. I know Oz is beyond hungry, and the same stands true for the rest of us. This is a really long story, the main point being that the Watcher Council have been spreading around a bunch of BS ever since they came into existence. So if I’m going through the whole story, I would like a Veggie Deluxe to go along with it.”
The whole group was munching along contently when Daria continued. “The whole idea of ‘one chosen girl each generation’ has been modified from the original. There once were hundreds of Slayers in each generation, each with her own Tracker. The ‘one per generation’ thing meant one per each family generation. The Slayer from the previous generation taught the new Slayer, and the Trackers worked the same way. Then the Watcher Council took control. For the most part, the Trackers decided that the Council shouldn’t be in control, and refused to be controlled. In turn, the Council declared that the Slayers should only work alone. This drove a wedge, dividing the Slayers and the Trackers. Without the Trackers, the vampires began to take the upper hand, grouping together to take out Slayers. Most of the families died out within a century. Now Buffy’s family is the last one left. Most Trackers are unaware of their heritage because without the Slayer, the Tracker could not hunt.
“The way the Tracker/Slayer system worked, Slayers were the physical half of the team. They were given greater strength, agility, and an inborn fighting instinct. Buffy, you probably also have nearly perfect aim. The strongest of the Slayers is historically stationed on the Hellmouth. Trackers did exactly what their name suggests. We track through smell, although we can also sense if a being is supernatural or not. We also have a slight telepathic- ability towards the supernatural. I can’t read thoughts, but I can sense if a vampire is telling the truth. Those of us who have enough practice can tell the difference between souled vampires and other vampires. Trent, for instance, is a souled vampire. He was turned just after I discovered my abilities. Amy restored his soul. Trackers only have two physical defenses: an immunity against magic and the supernatural, and above average speed.”
“So why are you here now?”
“There’s a battle coming, and you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
"And I sold some paintings at a gallery nearby.”
The room broke out into a confused babbling. “Could everyone calm down?” Giles called out. The noise continued unabated. “Could everyone calm down, please?” A loud whistle pierced the room, and everyone fell silent. “Thank you, Jane. It’s nearly dawn. I think we all could use some sleep. Angel, can you and Trent find someplace fairly dark?”
“I’ve been staying at the mansion when I’m in town. I guess we could stay there.”
“Good. I’ve got one guest room. Oz, Max, would you two mind sharing the room?”
“I’d rather stay on the couch,” said Max. “I like to stay close to the door.”
“I’ll take the room,” offered Oz.
“All right, then. Buffy, Willow, can you take in the girls?”
“Sure.”
“No problem.”
“Good. Let’s split up, and we’ll reconvene tomorrow at sunset.” With some assorted commotion, everyone scattered to the various residences.
Buffy unlocked her room. “This is it. Home sweet home.” She flicked on the light as she walked in, followed by Jane and Daria.
“Listen, just point me out a patch of carpet and hand me a pillow,” Jane said, yawning hugely. “I’m dead tired. It’s closer to nine am in Lawndale.”
“The floor’s good for me, too.” Daria struggled to bring her backpack and suitcase inside.
“You’re guests, we couldn’t make you sleep on the floor,” protested Willow.
“The floor is fine. Jane can sleep anywhere.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in and out anyway.”
Daria waited until the lights were out and she heard Jane’s light snore before she quietly grabbed her book bag and left the room. She picked a spot in the hallway and pulled out her chemistry text. She had moved into an enthralling section on the importance of Mendeleev when she heard the door open and close.
“You should really get some sleep. If you’re right, we’re going to be really busy the next few days.” Willow settled down next to her. “Being studious is a good thing, but you can really take it too far.”
“I’m fine. You go on back to bed. Don’t worry about me.”
“If you’ll be more comfortable on the bed, we can switch. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
Daria closed her book. “I can’t sleep.”
“Are you worried about this?”
“No. I don’t get tired. I haven’t slept since I became a Tracker. I don’t need it.”
“Come on, everyone needs sleep, even Buffy.”
“I don’t. Amy says that Trackers were originally the ones who researched the different demons, studied prophecies, that kind of thing. When a Tracker comes into her heritage, she simply no longer needs sleep. This whole thing is filled with ups and downs. Pretty much like the Slayer thing has its ups and downs. On the minus side, I have less physical strength than most people. I can’t slay vampires by myself. And my blood tastes especially good, according to Trent.”
“That’s pretty cool. The sleep thing, I mean. So what do you usually do when everyone is sleeping?”
“I read different books. I write a lot. I study for my classes.” Daria turned to Willow. “There’s something I have to tell you. I think you should find out like this. I know you and Oz used to go out. Well, we’re together now.”
“That’s great! I know he’s been really lonely.”
“So you’re OK with it?”
“Well, there’s maybe a bit of jealousy. But we moved into the friendship thing about six months ago.”
“You know, you should really get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” Willow got up from her spot on the floor. “Do you miss sleep?”
Daria hesitated for a moment. “Well, I can’t say that I miss sleep, exactly. But I miss dreaming.”
Willow started to reply when a huge yawn stopped her. “All right, bed now.”
“Good night, Willow. Sweet dreams.”
Buffy woke up to early afternoon sunshine, and it took her a moment to realize why her alarm clock had not gone off in time for her 8 am class. She sat up quickly when the door opened.
“I guessed at your coffee preferences. You seemed like a cappuccino person to me.” Daria set the large Styrofoam cup down. “Willow seemed more like a tea person. And Jane is black, extra strong.” She knelt next to her best friend, waving the cup under her nose like smelling salts, then jerking it away as Jane sat up quickly.
“Daria, you angel.”
“Watch it, Lane.”
“This is perfect, Daria.” Buffy sipped appreciatively. “Why are you awake already?”
Daria shrugged. “I don’t sleep. It’s all part and parcel of the Tracker thing.”
“And proof positive that she wasn’t meant for Trent, the incredible narcoleptic boy.”
“So fill me in on this. Are we supposed to be best buds now, or what?”
“More like Batman and Robin, I think. Only without the cool car. I can point out where the vampires are, how many there are, if they are using magic, that kind of stuff. But I can’t do any of the physical fighting. I’m fast, but not strong. I can also communicate to you telepathically. With very little practice, you should be able to do the same.”
Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Shower first.”
“I took mine already. Willow, can I use your computer?”
“Sure.”
Daria was tapping out the last of several e-mails when Buffy returned. “You ready?” she asked, not looking up.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good.” < This is your first lesson. You can’t block me off from communication. You have to pay attention. >
“Cool! How do I do that back?”
< Just concentrate on what you want to say. >
< LIKE THIS? >
< You’re yelling! Don’t concentrate quite that hard. This is another Slayer ability, not something you have to work at. >
< Is this better? >
< Much. The next thing you have to learn is controlling your messages. Concentrate on me specifically, so no one can overhear. >
< I can do this with other people? >
< Some. Willow, maybe. Probably Jane as well. But your friend Xander can’t do this. Neither can Giles. >
< So can I teach this to Willow? >
< That’s what she and Jane are doing. I think Willow is a natural witch, like Jane. The methods are a little different. > “So, what do you think?”
“This is very cool. Since we’re alone, can I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.”
“Are you and Oz . . .?”
“We’re together. We just seemed to click, I guess. That immunity thing will probably come in handy.”
“Immunity thing?”
“I can’t be affected by any type of magic, which means I can’t become a werewolf or a vampire. I could be killed by one, but I could never be turned.”
“What other powers do you have?”
“One I didn’t mention last night, because of the mixed crowd. I can call them.”
“Call them?”
“Pull them together into a group, in a specific place. Set them up for an ambush. I can do that for individuals as well. It’s a kind of mind control that doesn’t sit well with the supernatural crowd. You’re actually the first person I’ve told. It could be a danger as well, because my blood is apparently particularly tasty to vampires.”
< Buffy? >
< Willow? Is that you? >
Willow studied the girl across the table from her. She was incredibly petite, probably only about five feet tall, and slender. She had large gray eyes and thick chestnut hair. Fiercely intelligent, powerful, and yet extremely vulnerable. “I can definitely see what Oz sees in her,” she thought, twisting the bracelet she wore. When she and Tara had broken up, Willow had tried to get back with Oz. But by then he had moved into the friendship stage. And now he had found someone new, someone who could trust him completely and who loved him thoroughly back. And now her world was even more confused.
“So anyway, Jane and Willow are going to spend some time practicing on magic until we get the details on what we’re facing. And Amy called. She’s coming down and bringing Duncan and Adam for the approaching party. She said she found your mentor, Jane.”
“That’s good. Here or home?”
“Home, luckily. She’s actually connected to Amanda through an old acquaintance in California, and here’s the kicker: She’s nicknamed Janey.”
“Cool.”
“She also said, and I quote, ‘A few other friends may be dropping in.’ Amy has connections, so this should be good.”
“So what are we facing, exactly?”
< Perhaps I can answer that. >
Buffy jumped up from her seat. “OK, who just said that?”
“Reinforcements,” Daria muttered cryptically as she got up from her seat and opened the door. “Professor, Logan, what are you two doing here?”
“Heard you were in for some fun, Shorty. Thought we’d join in.”
“Logan, please don’t call me that. You don’t appreciate it when it’s done to you. Besides, I’m just the right height for Oz, and that’s all that matters.”
“So you’re Oz?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re with Daria?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re a werewolf.”
“Yeah.”
“Just remember, bub, these claws would work as well as silver. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Can someone please explain what’s going on here?” Buffy glared at the newcomers as they moved into the room. From his post behind the professor’s wheelchair, Logan glared back until she shifted uncomfortably.
“We are friends of Amy Barksdale. I am Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my . . .associate, Logan.”
“Logan and the professor were instrumental with my training,” offered Daria, greeting the pair with a small hug. “Charles helped with the development of telepathy, and Logan taught me how to use my tracking abilities. I assume you’re going to tell us about what we’re up against.”
“Have you ever wondered whether those beings that we face separately in battle would find a common cause with which to join together? It is happening now.”
At this moment Willow’s computer let out a soft ping, announcing that new mail had arrived. Daria went to the machine and opened the message, reading it silently to herself. “Our favorite Southern couple came through,” she announced with a smirk before turning back to the screen to read it aloud.
Hi hon,
Remy-love says hi and wants a poker rematch game. That’s the good news. The bad is a slight more involved. And the whole thing begins and ends in the Prof’s old friend Eric. A woman named Eleanor smuggled him out of the Nazi camp and has housed him from time to time when things get bad on his end. This Eleanor-lady is an immortal sorcerer with a pet ‘path that she had turned into a pet-souled vamp. That some how through some weird hapchance got dusted in Sunnydale Memorial Cemetery last month.
Oz sounds like a cutie. Kinda like Logan. . . what is it about girls and the short-hairy-silent type?
See-ya soon honey,
And your honey too,
Rogue and Remy
PS Que’ce y il a un garcon parler avec ton ami? RLB
“You’re blushing, love,” Oz said softly to her, a slight smile on his face.
"It’s a good thing I have a soft spot for redheads,” muttered Logan.
“That’s strange, so does Oz,” remarked Anya. At Logan’s growl, she continued, “Oh, simmer down, I was a vengeance demon against your kind long before you were around.”
“OK, question, who are Eric, Remy, and Rogue?”
“Well, Miss Summers, Remy and Rogue are my former students. They married and left the school two years ago, and they move around the country quite a bit, sending back information when they can. Eric is . . .more difficult to explain. He was once my closest friend, but we grew apart when we disagreed on a central issue.”
“What?”
“The fair treatment of human beings. You see, Eric feels that Homo sapiens have had their chance, and now Homo superior must take the forefront. He survived the camps of Nazi Germany. He swears that humans will never have the chance to treat his people that way again.”
“And his people would be . . .?”
“Ah yes, well, no secrets in this group. Eric, and I, and Logan, and, well, every student at my school, we all have special gifts. We’re mutants.”
“And what is Eric’s gift?”
“Magnetism.”
“All right, that’s not good. Any ideas?”
“What are our capabilities?”
“Huh?”
“What are the capabilities of each one of us? We should spread out all of our cards, find out what we have and what we need.”
“Well, for one thing, we need more space,” said Amy from the doorway. “Charles, Logan, good to see you made it.”
“Amy. Didya bring the boy scout?”
“Never leave home without him, Logan.”
“Duncan, Adam, good to see you.”
“Still having flashback dreams, Logan?”
“Nope, Chuck’s taken care of those.”
“I believe introductions are in order.”
“Oh, right.” Daria introduced the newest arrivals to the entire group.
“The real question is not, ‘What do we need?’. It’s ‘Why is this happening?’.”
Buffy snorted. “They’re evil. We fight evil. It’s usually something along those lines.”
“I’m afraid that this time you have earned the ire of this particular immortal and, in turn, the wrath of Eric. The vampires are just icing on the cake.”
“What did I do?”
“This is what I’ve gathered from Joe’s research and the information sent our way from the Southern couple. Eleanor had a favored apprentice, a young woman named Jasmine who happened to have a telepathic gift. Jasmine was not an immortal, something that troubled Eleanor greatly, as it meant the eventual loss of both companion and gift. She had discovered a way, through magic, to bind her soul, and then have her turned into a vampire. A vampire that you staked three weeks ago while on patrol.”
“How does Eric fit into this?”
“She was one of the people who helped liberate him from the camps, gave him aid until he could care for himself. He’s taken shelter with her from time to time. She has earned his eternal gratitude and respect.”
“Do you know what form the attack will be?”
Amy shook her head. “She’s still gathering reserves, so that buys us some time. We’ll have to do some serious interrogation to get the details.”
< Daria? >
< Buffy? >
< I really don’t like the idea of reserves. Do you have any ideas? >
< Girls, it’s rude to carry on this conversation while the rest of us are here. >
“Sorry. Any ideas?”
“Oz?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you nervous about this?”
“A little.” Oz brushed back the hair that had fallen around Daria’s face. “I don’t like the idea of using you for live bait. If something goes wrong, there’s nothing we can do to keep you safe.”
“Nothing will go wrong. Besides, I have you and Trent and Max as my personal guardians. No girl could ask for more protection.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise.”
Oz tilted his head until their forehead met. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered.
“I think I’m falling right back.”
“Guys? Is it safe to come into the van now, or are we going to witness some things we don’t want to witness?”
“It’s safe, Jane.”
The girl sat quietly on the bench, writing furiously on a large tablet of paper. Jason sniffed appreciatively. She smelled delicious, and he could see a pulse pounding in her slender throat from his spot beneath the bushes. Easing up from his crouch, he moved silently through the shadows toward his target.
Daria forced down her instincts to rush from the scene and instead called out telepathically to Buffy, who had been watching from the shadows.
“There’s a McDonald’s two blocks down if you’re hungry. But it’s usually not wise to snack on my friends.” The vampire’s head snapped back as she completed a roundhouse kick, then he surprised both of them by snatching Daria up and running toward the woods.
“Trent! Max! Oz! He’s got Daria!” Buffy cried out as she followed. < Daria, where are you? > “Guys, look for a red car. I think he just bit her, and now I’m not getting anything!” < Daria! Try to call Trent or Oz! We’re trying to find you! > “She’s this way!” Oz ran to Pine Street, closely followed by the others. The car was moving down the street at a rapid pace, with Trent, Oz and Buffy quickly gaining on it. The vampire, under attack within the car, swerved drunkenly and rammed into a telephone pole. Trent headed for the driver’s side and their newly acquired prisoner, while Oz argued with the door of the passenger side, intent on removing Daria from the car. She was ghost-white, one trembling hand pressed against the wounds on her neck. “Oz?” Her voice was barely audible, even to his heightened senses. “Oz, help me. I can’t stop the bleeding.” “I’m right here, love. I’ve got you.” He gently pulled her out of the car, and then pressed his fingers against the flow of blood. “We’ve got to get her to the hospital. She’ll bleed to death.” “It’s only a block down. Do you think you can carry her?” “Yes.” “I’ll run ahead, let them know you’re coming. Can you two get our new friend to the cage?” At Trent’s nod, Buffy ran toward the hospital. “Daria? Daria, I’m going to get you to the hospital. Daria?” There was no response. Oz slapped her gently on the cheek. “Daria?” This time there was a slight moan. “Daria, you need to stay with me. I’m going to get you to the hospital.” Oz released the wound, relieved when the flow of blood was much smaller than before. Then he lifted her into a scoop, with one arm supporting her shoulders and the other right above the knees, and moved as quickly as he could toward the hospital. He was met halfway there by a group of men and women with a stretcher, where he laid down his burden and followed helplessly behind. “Are you family,” asked the young woman behind the reception desk, “because only family will be allowed back.” “I’m her sister,” improvised Buffy, “and this is her fiancé.” “You two can go on back, then.” “Trent and Max are probably back with the rest. I’m going to call and tell them what’s happened. Stay here and wait for news.” The Slayer turned toward the doors, then turned back. “Oz, don’t worry. She’ll pull through. I can still feel her, and she’s fighting hard.” “I know.” The knowledge didn’t seem to cheer him. As Buffy searched for change to make her call, she felt for the link. It was tenuous, but it was still there. < Daria, keep fighting! We can’t lose you! > Buffy marched nervously between the intensive care waiting room and the general waiting room outside. None of the others had been allowed in, so she was responsible for keeping them updated. Trent and Angel had left for a darker spot as sunrise approached, but had made them promise to call as soon as they had news. “How’s Oz holding up?” “Not good. He’s scared to death at the thought of losing her, and I think he’s blaming himself for not being fast enough, not protecting her better. If she doesn’t pull through, we’re going to lose both of them.” “Is the link still there?” “Yes. It’s weak, but it’s there.” “If she wasn’t immune to magic, we could do a healing spell.” “All we can do is wait it out. When Charles comes back, I’ll have him do a mental scan to see how aware she is.” Buffy sighed. “I’m going back in to check on the two of them. Maybe I can talk Oz into coming out, getting something to eat.” Her walk toward the smaller waiting room turned into a jog when she rounded the corner and saw a doctor standing in front of Oz. He turned to her with a lopsided smile. “She’s unconscious, but stable. Dr. Hart says we can go in, one at a time.” “You go first. I’ll go tell the others.” Oz moved over next to the bed, looking down on the still form that lay there. A large white bandage covered most of her neck, and an IV drip snaked down from a nearby stand to the back of her hand. The steady beep of her heartbeat on the monitor was reassuring to him. He reached down to touch her face, then picked up her free hand. “I’m here with you, love, and I’ll be here as long as you are. You’re going to pull through this, Daria.” He kissed the hand he was holding, then her forehead. “Oz, your hand is cold.” “Sorry.” “Did it go well?” “Yeah.” “Did I mention I love you?” “No.” “Oh. Well, I do.” “I love you too.” Daria’s smile widened. “Could you tell Buffy to stop broadcasting? She’s giving me a headache. And the professor is right. He can boost my abilities telepathically over the link.” “Our new friend Jason says Eric joined Eleanor two days ago and they’re hiding out in the outskirts of LA. There’s no way Daria will be able to come to the battle, but she’s too vulnerable to be left alone. And as callous as this may seem, we need her abilities.” “She definitely won’t be left alone. Oz won’t leave her side. He’s determined to keep her from falling prey to anymore evil.” “I have a suggestion.” The professor looked across the table at Buffy. “If she’s conscious, I can boost her abilities to work from a distance. With the telepathic link you two share, we can communicate about the dangers from her hospital room.” “Buffy, Daria says you’re broadcasting over the link. Also, she says she agrees with the professor’s suggestion about amplifying her abilities.” Oz grinned at the group. “She just woke up.” < Daria! Is that all you had to say? > < No. But that’s all you are allowed to hear. > < I’m glad you’re back. You had us all worried. Especially Oz. > “Oz, it’s strange; I could have sworn I heard you call me ‘love’. How did you get me to the hospital? I don’t remember much after the car crash.” “I carried you most of the way. Buffy ran ahead and they met me with a stretcher. Oh, and Buffy told the hospital staff we’re engaged so I could come back to intensive care. Trent, Max and Angel had a talk with Jason before they dusted him. He couldn’t give us much, he wasn’t high up on the power list, but he did know that Eric and Eleanor are together now, and they’re coming in two days time. The good news is that they don’t know our numbers, and that most of our crew has special abilities. They also don’t know about you, which is good, because a magic attack is almost guaranteed. And Dr. Hart said he’d release you tonight if you take this last transfusion well. At this point, the best thing you can do to heal is rest and drink plenty of fluids.” “But I don’t sleep.” “Sleep and rest don’t have to be the same thing. Just take it easy for a while, OK? No more of this live bait thing.” “I’ll try.” “Logan . . .nevermind.” “The doc said we can take you home now. So send the kid outside and get dressed.” “So what do you think? Should we remain on the defensive, or should we take the battle to them?” Buffy looked around the table of assorted warriors. “I definitely like the idea of a battle on our own terms. If we let them attack first, they have a distinct advantage. Not to mention easy access to our resources. Trust me, you live as long as I have, you learn the tricks.” “But do we know where they are?” “Trent and Angel are out on the streets right now, checking on a few leads they garnered from Jason. They’re either at the dig site for the abandoned mission or hiding out in a part of the Initiative headquarters.” Giles paused for a minute, deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure if Angel knows where the Initiative headquarters used to be.” “I’d check the mission first. Holy ground.” “That’s what Trent said. If they are there, we’re going to have to get Eleanor away before we can begin. There’s not a thing we can do when she’s on holy ground.” “I’ll be the champion.” “Really, Macleod, you’re always the champion.” “Excuse me? I don’t need a champion,” said Buffy, glaring at Duncan. “I can fight this battle myself, thank you. I don’t need some male chauvinist to be my champion.” “If Eleanor wants a fight, it will have to be one on one with another immortal.” “If anyone of us needs to fight, it should be me,” said Max. “Daria is one of my few friends, and she comes under my protection.” “All right, who’s staying here with Daria to guard our home base? Besides Oz.” “I am staying to help her stretch her powers.” “I’m no good in a fight against Magneto, as much as I’m itchin’ to get my claws on him. I’ll stay here with Chuck and Shorty.” “All right then, here’s the plan.” Eleanor stood at the window looking out into the dying light. She absently stroked the hilt of her sword and thought of the golden blond who would soon fall to it. “All for you, Jasmine, my daughter,” she thought, turning to the man behind her. “We will not have a chance to attack them. They are coming here. Bringing the fight to us.” “Do not worry, Eleanor. You will have your vengeance.” Eric brushed the brown hair from her eyes and smiled. “Do you know how many we will be facing?” “No. Someone is blocking my magic, making me unable to scry. I do not think they have any reserves to call in, so there should not be any further surprises.” “Excellent. Let’s see if this so-called ‘Slayer’ truly lives up to her potential.” < Buffy, two vampires coming in from the right. > < Thanks. Everything going all right? > < Yeah, except for the fact that this silent communication is driving my guardians crazy. > < Hang on a sec, vampire coming toward me. > < Buffy, I don’t sense any vampire. > < Well, I’m looking dead into its yellow eyes. > < Buffy, it’s an illusion. It can’t do anything. Just walk past it. > < Definitely. In fact, I’m sensing fewer vampires than were believed to be in play. I get the feeling we’ve been wrong about the numbers. Unless I give you a heads up, they’re not real. Make sure the rest of the group follows your lead. > < Gotcha. It’s a pretty good idea, I have to admit. > The first group moved in rapidly, but cautiously, with Buffy receiving a running count on the number of vampires approaching. < Buffy, there are only eight left. Can you take them out together? > < No problem. > < Good, I’m calling them together to the right. > < Daria, you have got to tell the others about this. > < This is not the time for this discussion, Buffy. I’ll tell Oz when things settle down. Concentrate on what you’re doing. Trent and Angel should feel some of the pull; I can’t separate them out completely. Do your job, and I’ll do mine. > < You don’t have to be so snippy about it. > After a few beheadings and a handful of stakings, the vampires were dust and Angel was looking more than a little smug over the “vampire instincts” that had lead him to the vampires. “All right, Duncan, bring in the others,” Buffy said into the radio. Eleanor started, then her lips spread into a cruel smile. “I must say, this is a surprise,” she purred, standing up and reaching for her sword. “The clever girl found out what I was and managed to find another of my kind. I better go freshen up, I’m going to have to leave for a battle.” “Eleanor, you know I can just destroy his sword, then him. There’s no need for a battle.” “I may be a witch, but I have honor, Eric! The rules of the game say no interference, so you had better keep your distance. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” Eleanor swept out of the room and headed toward the doorway of the dilapidated building. She charged across the yard to the assembly. “Duncan MacLeod, I should have known. You were always the type to join a crusade. If you were a little older, you would have joined up with King Richard.” “What is this with you, MacLeod? Do you know every female immortal there is?” Adam was leaning casually against an elm tree, the sword in his hand resting on the ground. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m sure you know the rules. No interference! As for you, young man, you’d better keep your sword put away. If he’s going to come here, he’s going to get a fight.” “Actually, Max is the one who wishes to fight you,” said Duncan, almost apologetic. “A friend of his was badly hurt by one of your pet vampires, and he feels the blame falls on you.” “If she was a friend of that Summers girl, then she was in the line of fire. Sometimes in a war innocent people die.” “As did Jasmine.” “Jasmine is different. She was targeted by that Slayer despite her innocence, her beautiful gift turned to dust with one blow. A life for a life, Duncan. I require vengeance.” “I’d say you’ve had it.” “The girl still lives, Duncan. Blood is the only thing that will avenge my daughter, and I mean to have it. So either fight me, or get out of my way.” “So what will fighting prove? Say Max dies. Will that bring Jasmine back?” “That’s odd coming from you, Duncan. You’re usually clamoring to avenge some old friend. Consider this: Jasmine was my daughter in every sense of the word save one. She was as immortal as I, without the side effect of headhunters. She was destroyed because of what she was. Is this fair, Duncan? It seems like that’s exactly what those mortals did when they destroyed Darius.” Eleanor closed her eyes and began to speak under her breath. < Buffy! Don’t let this happen! She’s going to immobilize them all with magic, then go after you! > Daria’s face was etched with concentration. < Willow, Jane, you need a spell of protection! > < Won’t that cut you off? > < Don’t worry about that. I can do nothing else. > The images she had been seeing abruptly flickered out. “That’s it,” she said, leaning back between Logan and Oz. “Once they start using magic, I can’t do anything else.” “What I do not understand is why Eric has not yet interfered.” “It’s against the rules.” “Rules?” “The rules of the Game. Eleanor will fight one of the immortals, and there can be no interference. That’s also why she had to leave holy ground.” “Only too true, unfortunately, which leads me to this question: Why are you involved, Charles?” Eric stood in the now open doorway, a look of bemusement on his face. “Miss Summers was communicating telepathically with someone, Charles. That person also kept Eleanor from “scrying”, whatever that may be. I knew you had to be here, bent on making my life difficult.” “That’s not true.” Daria moved unsteadily across the floor to stand before him. “They came to protect me.” “And why would they bother coming here to help a weak human girl?” “When I was learning to use my skills, we became friends.” “And what skills are those?” “I’m a Tracker. We’re companions to the Slayer.” “You, frail humanity personified, are a companion to the strongest human that exists? The idea is laughable, my dear.” “I’m telling you the truth.” “Really? Then you should do nicely for the blood payment Eleanor demands.” He reached out a hand toward her. “Leave her alone.” Oz’s voice was steady but strained, and his eyes glittered. “Lovely, another mortal who assumes I can be ordered about. You’ll get your turn, young man. Do not worry.” His attention moved back to the girl standing in front of him. “I said, leave her alone!” “Logan, move back!” The men in the room watched in fascination as his body twisted, teeth sprouting and bones rearranging within a body that quickly ripped apart his clothing to reveal thick, coarse hair. “Astonishing,” Eric managed before the werewolf launched himself into the air. Eric struggled momentarily, then went limp as the wolf found his throat and bit down. His teeth dug into the flesh several times before he sensed other prey in the room. He instinctively headed toward the most vulnerable of them, only to be blocked by a set of adamantium claws. “Be careful, Logan! Don’t hurt him! Professor, see if you can reach into Oz’s mind, force him to change back.” Daria watched anxiously as the Professor closed his eyes and concentrated. Logan struggled against Oz’s amplified strength, the wolf becoming less aggressive as the Professor began to calm his mind. Eventually the beast shrank back to his normal proportions, hair disappearing and fangs retracting. “Does anyone have some clothes I can borrow?” “So what happened after the spell was cast?” “Eleanor left, using magic as a cover, when she realized that she was outgunned. I’m a little disappointed.” “Speak for yourself! This way we all keep our heads where they belong.” Willow moved up behind Oz. “So it’s back to Connecticut?” “Yeah. The professor wants to work with me on controlling my mind. He thinks he’ll eventually get to the point where I can use the wolf without losing myself.” He looked over at the girl next to him with a small smile. “And there are other factors concerning my decision.” “Timing just wasn’t right for us, was it?” “I guess not.” Oz gave her a brief affectionate hug, then headed for the small pile of duffel bags next to the van. “Ready to go home?” Oz smiled. “I’m ready.”
“Hey, Shorty. Got a little surprise for you.”
< You’re kidding me. Magic? >
“I regret that it had to end this way,” Charles Xavier said sadly, looking up at one of Sunnydale’s many crypts, now the final resting place of Eric Lensherr. “Eric, for all his faults, was an old, valued friend. Perhaps now he will finally be at peace.” He turned his wheelchair and pushed himself out of the graveyard. Oz and Daria walked hand in hand in the midst of the group.