The train station was surprisingly deserted for a Sunday evening. The train from New York was late, as usual, and Daria was thankful for the notebook she had tucked into her bag as she left her apartment. These weekend trips had occurred every week for the first year of Oz's training, not counting the summer he had been joined by his girlfriend and her Slayer. After that, much to the relief of the couple, they became less frequent. Now that Oz had control of the wolf, he only went back to talk with the Professor. Normally Daria went with him for these more social visits, but her book deadline was looming overhead and she had stayed in Conneticutt.
A tinny voice came over the loudspeaker, and Daria put away her notebook and stood up to meet Oz. She could smell the unique scent of a werewolf when he stepped from the train, and strained to see above the crowd that had suddenly developed. Apparently the station was deserted because everyone in town had gone to New York for the weekend.
"Hey," said Oz from behind her, and she turned around with a welcoming smirk.
"You're getting better at that."
"Logan says its all a matter of restraint." They shared an embrace and a quick kiss, then he picked up his duffel bag and they left the station together, hand in hand.
"How was the weekend?"
Oz shrugged, a lopsided smile on his face. "The professor wanted to talk about something with me."
"Anything in particular?"
He looked around at the people surrounding them. "Later."
The van was parked at the far edge of the parking lot, away from other cars, and they walked the short distance in companionable silence. Oz opened the passenger door for Daria, then went around the front of the van and slipped into the driver's seat. Instead of starting the engine, however, he turned and looked at her with a smile. She gave a half-smile in return and leaned over for a kiss.
"It's later."
"Yeah."
"So talk."
"The professor's offering us both positions at the school."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"I'm definitely flattered, but what exactly would we do?"
"Be part of the public face. You teach English, I teach music."
"That was the reason for this weekend?"
"The Professor took me around, gave me the grand tour. Almost like a recruitment. He's been thinking about this for a while."
"And what do you think about it?"
"I like the idea. Helping these kids. Like being a Scooby again. They would help with our battle as well." Daria was silent, obviously thinking about the possibilities, and Oz started the engine on the van. "So how did your weekend go?"
"I've got some good news and some bad news."
"Good?"
"Rogue and Remy are coming for a visit. They'll be staying at my place for a few weeks."
"Bad?"
"My mother wants to have dinner with us. Tonight."
"What brought this on?"
Daria sighed, absently rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Quinn told her we were serious. She called last night and 'requested' that I bring my 'young man' over for dinner. I hope you like lasanga. It's the only food my mother knows how to make."
"Should I go get cleaned up first?" He felt her cool gaze on him, taking in his worn jeans, black boots and faded black button-up shirt.
"You look pretty good to me," she said, blushing hotly. "Let's go."
"Did you finish your book?" asked Oz as he put the van into gear and started the short trip to her parents house.
"Yeah. I'll let it rest for a few days before I go back to do a final edit."
"We'll talk tonight."
"All right." Daria could sense a small bit of apprehension in her boyfriend, and its presence was slightly confusing to her. < Is he worried about meeting Helen? > Her wondering was cut short when the van pulled into the Morgendorffer driveway. She sighed and pushed her shoulders back. "Time for the battle." She stepped out onto the concrete when Oz opened the door for her.
"Before we go in," he began, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a carved wooden box. "I got something for you while I was in the city." He opened the box and held it out to her. "Marry me?"
Daria reached out and touched the emerald ring hesitantly, then looked straight into his green eyes. "Of course."
Oz smiled, and she could feel his nervousness vanish. "I wanted to make it romantic, but you would have seen it coming any other way."
"It is romantic." He slipped the ring onto her finger, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He returned the kiss, deepening it as he wrapped his hands around her waist.
"Your parents are waiting," he murmured.
"Let them."
"Not a good first impression."
She reluctantly broke off the kiss, but kept her arms around his neck. "I love you."
"I love you back," he replied, resting his forehead against hers. They stood there for another moment, and then, sighing, Daria stepped away from him.
"Let's go face the dragons."
__________________________________
"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," said Helen brightly. "Would you like a glass of wine, Daniel?"
"No thank you, Mrs. Morgendorffer."
"Helen, please. Are you sure about the drink?"
Oz shifted uneasily in his seat. 'Helen' was letting off some dangerous vibes. He would definitely need to stay sharp during this 'family dinner.' "I'm sure, Mrs.-Helen." Daria slipped her left hand into his right, reassuring him with this small touch that this cross-examination would soon end.
"So, Daniel, what are you studying in school?"
< How to Control your Inner Werewolf 101 > "I graduated last spring."
"Well, what were you studying?"
< Daria Morgendorffer > "Psychology."
"Really? That's fascinating. What have you been doing since graduation?"
< Playing my guitar and thinking about your daughter. > "I've just been offered a position with Xavier's School for the Gifted."
"What kind of position?"
< Resident non-mutant > "A teaching position."
"That sounds so interesting," Helen gushed, setting a plate in front of him. "Eat up, everyone! I made plenty."
Oz looked down at the slightly congealed lasanga. < For the first time since I became a werewolf, I'm not hungry. > "Looks great."
______________________________
"That could have gone better." Daria tossed her keys onto the end table and shrugged off the dark green jacket.
"Dessert was good. I wish I could say the same thing about dinner."
"You must be hungry after that," said Daria, heading into the kitchen.
"In more ways than one." Oz slipped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly.
"We agreed to wait."
"Yeah," said Oz, stepping away. "I'll go for a sandwich instead."
"I warned you about the lasanga," she teased, opening the door of the refrigerator. "Here, I have some leftover chicken." She handed him the plate and watched with bemusement as he proceeded to demolish what should have been enough chicken to last until the middle of the week. "You should be glad there's no cure for lycanthropy."
"Hmm?" Oz raised a questioning brow as he got up and poured himself a glass of milk. "Why do you say that?"
"You'd be as wide as you are tall otherwise."
"Would you still love me?"
"Of course."
"Then it wouldn't matter." He lead her into the small living room and sat down on the couch, tugging her down next to him. She leaned against him and he slipped an arm around her.
"So, would they feed us at the school?"
Oz tightened his arm around her shoulders, grateful that she was considering the opportunity. "We'd stay at the school and eat with the rest of the team."
Daria was silent for a while, her mind running over the possibilities while Oz stroked her hair gently. "Let's do it. Let's take the positions."
"I'll call the professor tomorrow. Should we start there before or after the wedding?"
"After."
"Lawndale, Sunnydale, or Vegas?"
"I don't care for the idea of a wedding on the hellmouth, and Jane would kill us both if we went for Vegas."
"Lawndale it is."
"Should we call your mother tonight?"
"I'll call her tomorrow morning. When are you planning on telling Helen?"
"When I know for sure that she can't hijack the whole thing."
< Daria? >
She sat up quickly. < Buffy! >
< Did I interrupt something? >
< Oz and I were just talking. >
< About . . .? >
< About the wedding. >
< You're getting married?! Wow, that's great! Hold on a sec, I'm going to pull Willow into this. >
"Buffy?" At Daria's nod, Oz stood up and headed toward the kitchen. "I'll clean up my mess and make some tea."
Daria settled herself more comfortablely on the couch, glad that the intense concentration needed for the first of these cross-country conversations was no longer necessary.
< How did he propose? >
< Hey, Willow. >
< Hi! How did he propose? >
< On the driveway of my mother's house, he said "I got you something in the city" and held out the ring and said, "Marry me." >
< I wish Andrew had his courage. >
Daria smirked. "Willow's waiting for Andrew to make a move," she told Oz as he brought in the tea.
"Should we help?"
< Willow, can we set him up? >
< No! >
< She's blushing, Daria. >
< How about you? Should we try with William? >
< Please! I so do not like him. Only my kind heart keeps him from dying a painful death at the business end of a stake. >
< Is there a reason you called, or did you just want to chat, Buffy? I could be curled up on the couch with wolf-boy right now. >
< Spike's been hearing rumors in the vamp community. Someone's going through the ranks of the locals, hiring the best and taking them out of town. >
< Like the undead Marines. >
< Right. Anyway, he doesn't know where they're going yet, but we'll keep you posted. >
< Good. The last thing we need is an order of vampiric assassins. >
< Yeah. So, what does your ring look like? >
Daria smiled as she sipped her tea. < Transition, Buffy? >
< Quit dodging the question! Start spilling. >
< It's an emerald, with a small diamond on each side. >
< We'll chat more later. You seem to be a little distracted, so just go back to cuddling with Oz. Don't do any permanent damage. >
< Buffy! >
< Talk to you later, kay? >
< Later. >
Oz eyed Daria's now pink cheeks with interest. "Feel like sharing?"
__________________________
"Of course I'll design your wedding dress, Daria!" Quinn gave her sister a warm hug, which Daria awkwardly returned. "This is so exciting! I mean, who would have thought that you would be the first!"
"Do you think you can keep this information from Mom?"
Quinn colored. "I'll keep quiet. I honestly couldn't help it, Daria. She turned into the lawyer and had it out of me before I could stop myself."
"She'll take over the whole thing if she finds out. We don't want to be trapped in a huge family affair, complete with frilly pink dresses."
"Have you set a date yet?"
"October 22nd. I'm serious, Quinn. We'll run off to Vegas if Mom finds out."
"As long as I don't talk to Mom I can keep it a secret."
"Thank you, Quinn."
"I have to get back to work." Quinn picked up her small handbag from her feet and laid down her share of the bill. "I'll start work on your dress tonight. I already have some great ideas." She walked out of the restaurant, other patrons following her as she left. At 15, Quinn had been a lovely girl. At 20, she was a gorgeous woman who attracted attention wherever she went.
Daria sighed, the idea of Vegas beginning to sound more attractive. She laid down the money for her half of the bill and followed her sister out, unaware that she was receiving attention similar to that paid her sister.
___________________________
"So, can I plan the reception," shouted Jane over Mystik Spiral, "because I know a guy who can hook us up with alcohol dirt cheap."
"Yeah, Jane, that's exactly what we need. Assorted vampires, an outlawed mutant team, a werewolf, a Slayer, a Tracker, some witches, and a few immortals in various states of inebriation while the forces of darkness wait to attack."
"So you're saying you don't want me to talk to One-Eyed Jack?"
Daria began to elaborate on the resounding "no" answer she had for her best friend, when the band finished their song. "We're Mystik Spiral, and we'll be back for our second set in a few minutes, so stick around."
"Hey," said Oz, coming up behind her and kissing her on the cheek. She frowned at him.
"Either I'm slipping or you've been hanging out with Logan too often."
"I'll go with the Logan theory."
"Where have you been."
"I was on the phone with Xander. And Anya."
"Hey, Daria," said Max, slipping into the booth on the other side of Jamie. "Are we going hunting soon? Trent's been hearing a few things."
"Where is Trent?" Jane looked around for her brother.
"He's over at the bar," said Daria, not looking away from Oz. Suddenly, she and Max both stiffened.
"Do you smell trouble, Lassie? What is it, girl?" Jane smirked across the booth at the Tracker.
"Another Immortal," said Max, scanning the room intently.
"And a Slayer," added Daria, standing up casually and glancing around the room.
"Both?" At Daria's nod, Oz also stood up, quickly finding a tall brunette dressed in leather. "Faith."
"Is that an epithet or a benediction?" Daria began edging out of the booth.
"Or Trent's eulogy," Jane asked grimly.
"Don't know yet." He followed Daria toward the bar, where Faith had begun a conversation with their favorite souled vampire.
"So, you want to get out of here? After you finish the last set, I mean. I know this place outside of town that's nice and quiet." The brunette lounged across the back of the bar, displaying herself a little better. She turned around when Oz tapped her on the shoulder. "Oz?"
"Faith."
"It's not that I don't want to chat about the old days, but I'm a little busy with chosen one duties here."
"Yeah, about that, Trent is souled and hunts other vamps with us."
"We're going hunting later tonight, if you want to join us," added Daria.
Faith looked at the two of them, then at Trent, and shrugged. "Sure."
"Max is givin' me dirty looks and pointing at his watch," grumbled Trent, standing up and heading toward the stage. "Hey, um . . .Faith. Thanks for not staking me."
"No prob."
Oz grimaced at the heightened pheremone levels coming from the booth. "Jane and Jamie are at it again."
"Ugh. Mind if we stay over here?"
Faith shrugged, picked up her beer and turned to watch the band.
"All right then." The three sat in relative silence for the remainder of the set. Daria tried to contact Buffy in order to let her know what was happening, but got an instantaneous headache from whatever party the Slayer was attending at the moment. < Guess I'll just play this out on my own. >
A group of five miscellaneous warriors assembled outside when the band was finished, some of them more enthusiastic than others. Faith's pale skin looked positively green for a brief moment as she was introduced around to the group, but she recovered quickly as they headed quietly toward the seedier portion of town.
"So, when did you die?"
Daria turned to her friend quickly. "Max! Don't you think you should have given her a little warning?"
"When did I what?"
"You're an Immortal. That buzzing you heard when we met? That's a warning that you're near another Immortal. I'm guessing that you died three or four years ago, like me."
"I was drowned while Buffy and I were hunting. You?"
"Shot while trying to fight off the vampires that changed Trent."
"After we're finished hunting, there's a lot we need to discuss. Faith, to your left. Newbie." Faith neatly staked the vampire.
"Nice trick."
"Thanks. We're good for the next few blocks."
"Mind telling me how you do it?"
"You'll find out later tonight. Shoot, tonight . . .Oz, what's the date?"
"September 15th. Why?"
"Relocating to my place. I can't believe I forgot about this."
"What?"
"Rogue and Remy are coming in tonight. They were supposed to be at the apartment around 8 pm."
"Knowing Remy, they were inside fairly quickly."
"True. Still, we can continue the slayage tomorrow."
"No objections here."
"Great." Daria looked relieved. "It's just as well, Lawndale's pretty dead tonight. I did get some tips about New York, maybe we should start looking around there. We'll be close enough soon."
_________________________
"We were a little worried for you, sugah." Rogue was curled up on the couch, Daria's latest novel in her small hands. "Remy was ready to go out lookin' for ya."
"You know I can take care of myself," smirked Daria, slipping out of her jacket. "Besides, I'm always with a few protectors. We ran into Faith at the pub and decided to go hunting. Speaking of which, Faith, meet Rogue and Remy LeBeau."
"It's a pleasure, sugah," drawled Rogue, a warm smile on her lips as she reached out to shake hands with the Slayer. The smile brightened when she brushed her bare fingers across Faith's.
"Dat's enough, Rogue," said Remy from across the room. Rogue pouted, but let go of the other woman's hand.
Faith shook her head a little, trying to remove the dazed feeling. "So, how about filling me in on what everyone is talking about?"
"Do you want the long version or the short version," asked Daria as she sank into her favorite chair, "because if you're hearing the long version, we better send out for food."
"Long version, and chinese."
"I'll go. The usual?"
"Sure."
"See you later, love." Oz gave Daria a quick kiss and headed out the door, Trent and Remy on his heels.
"So, Rogue," began Daria, leaning over to look the other woman in the eye, "when were you planning on telling me about your condition?"
Rogue blushed and nervously ran her fingers through the stripe in her chestnut hair. "How'd ya figure it out?"
Daria pointed to her nose. "Hormone shifts. This nose is sensitive to more than the supernatural."
"I just found out a few days ago. Haven't told Remy yet."
"Why?"
"Our lives are about to seriously change. D' ya think we can keep travelin' all ovah the country when I'm eight months pregnant and big as a beach ball? We'll have to stop somewhere, put down roots for a while. Ah guess I'm afraid of tyin' him down. He's nevah really been stuck in one place for a time."
"Tell him." Daria narrowed her eyes at the Southern Belle, who sighed and brushed back her chestnut hair. "He probably already knows, anyway. Remy can always pick up your moods."
"When did you become a psychologist, kid?"
Daria smirked. "I'm engaged to one. It had to rub off sometime."
"Um, guys? I'm still here." Faith was lounging against the doorframe. "If this is a bad time, I could always come back later."
"Immortals, or me?"
"What are you?"
Daria sighed and gestured toward a second chair. "I'm what is known as a Tracker. The original brains to the Slayer brawn, until the Watchers took over. I have enhanced smell, vision, some telepathy, and I don't sleep."
"Cool. The Immortal thing?"
"Max, care to do the honors?"
"You live forever, until someone cuts your head off."
"Why would they want to do that?"
"For your soul, and the power that comes with it. Most Immortals will come at you with a sword, so you'll need training, probably Lissie."
"Lissie?"
"Lissie Pike, a friend of my teacher's. She and her husband travel."
"See? That wasn't hard at all. So, how long are you in town?" Faith shrugged. "Where are you staying?" Faith named a cheap motel down next to the pub. "Would you like to stay here instead?"
"Sure."
"Good. And now we all get to eat Chinese at Remy's expense." Daria looked up, suddenly alert. "There they are." She headed into the kitchen for plates and silverware, and everyone filled up their plates and headed back into the living room. Due to the lack of furniture, Daria settled herself onto Oz's lap to eat her meal. Of course, she could have sat on the floor, but it was just so much more comfortable that way.
"They always like that?" Faith watched as the two of them exchanged little kisses in between bites.
"Pretty much. When they were up at the mansion last summer, they stole the title that Remy-love and I had."
"Which was?"
"The Nauseatingly Cute Couple, or NCC for short. Daria, have you two sent out the invitations yet?"
"This morning." She set aside her plate and leaned back against the werewolf, who wrapped his arms around her waist.
___________________
Cordelia absently shuffled through the thick sheaf of mail as she walked toward the coffee pot, intent on a caffeine jolt. "Electric, water, credit card," she muttered, tucking the last bill behind the others. She had bought her new shoes on Angel's emergency card, reasoning that such a sale was an emergency. "I better take care of that one myself." She continued sorting the mail as the coffee trickled into the pot, slipping the envelopes into their proper places on the desk.
"Morning, Cordelia," said Angel, closing the door that lead to his apartment. "Is that the mail?"
Cordelia waved distractedly, engrossed in watching the coffe pot slowly fill. Angel shook his head and headed for the desk. He flipped through the envelopes casually, pausing at a plain, cream-colored envelope with the address handwritten.
"What's this?" He pulled the envelope out of the stack to examine it more closely.
"I'm not sure. Maybe a thank you note from a client?" Cordy shrugged and turned back to pour herself a cup of coffee.
"We don't have many grateful clients, Cordy." He cut the envelope open with a knife and slipped the contents out. After scanning the message, Angel smiled. Do we have anything scheduled for the week of October 22nd?"
Cordelia glanced at the calendar. "Nope. Why?"
"We've been invited to a wedding."
"Whose?" She snatched the card from his hand. "Oz? Why would he invite us?"
"He and Daria have been helping us with information for a while. They're a good match. They work well together. I've no doubt Buffy and the others are going as well."
"What's this?" Wesley came through the front door.
"Daria and Oz invited us to their wedding."
"Really? I'd gotten the impression that Oz was a bit miffed at us. I believe his exact words were, 'My girlfriend is not bait.'"
"He wasn't upset with us, Wesley, just you. You did suggest that we use Daria's abilities to lure Dru and Darla into a trap."
"Could someone please explain what's going on?" Cordelia glared at the two, arms crossed and foot tapping.
"Daria's a Tracker. There's a lot involved in the heritage, but one of the major side effects is that she has the best-tasting blood in existence by vampiric standards." At Cordelia's look of confusion, he continued. "Think of it this way, Cordy. Normal humans are like McDonald's hamburgers. Those who are stronger, like the Slayer or Immortals, are more like a good steak. Trackers are like filet mignon with a hot fudge sundae for dessert."
"Okay, now I'm disgusted. Are we going?"
"Sure." Angel pulled the calendar to him and marked off the week, then continued going through the mail.
"I wonder what I should wear. Maybe I should call Buffy and ask about it. Angel, what do you think?"
"Why is there a three hundred dollar charge to Deb's Boutique on my credit card?" Angel looked over the statement at Cordelia, who turned red.
"You know, I think I have an audition today. I better go," she said as she rushed out the door.
_______________________
"Mail's here," called out Anya, walking to the register of the store. "Giles, these people keep sending us catalogs we don't want. Isn't there a spell for that?"
"A spell to stop junk mail? I wish there was," said Giles ruefully, rifling through the stack of letters. "Well, this is interesting," he said, pulling an envelope from the rest of the mail. "This is addressed to all of us."
"Hang on a sec, is that what I think it is?" Willow plucked the missive from his hand. "It is! I'll go get Buffy!" She ran into the training room, where Buffy was sparring with Spike and Andrew simultaneously. "Buffy, it came!"
"What?" Buffy turned from the fight momentarily, then tumbled to the ground as Spike swept her feet out from under her.
"Concentration," he warned, standing over her and smirking. She retaliated by sweeping away his own legs, knocking him down next to her.
"Back at ya." She stood up and brushed herself off. "You were saying, Will?"
"It came!"
"Really!" The two girls quickly left the room. Andrew helped Spike up and they headed toward the others in the store. Buffy was perched on a stool behind the counter, slicing through the thick paper of the envelope with her knife. "'To Giles, Buffy, Willow, Anya, Xander, Andrew, and William.'"
"Why the bloody hell does she always call me William?"
"Maybe because that's your name," Xander suggested.
"I am reading, Spike." Buffy glared at the blond vampire, who grinned back. "Keep quiet."
"I don't want to."
"Ahem! 'You are all invited to our wedding at Xavier's School for the Gifted on October 22nd. We also invite you all to stay at the school the week before. Amy's arranging an evening flight from LA to New York, and I will contact you soon.'"
"Well, that sounded cold," said Spike, only to be hushed by the feminine half of the room.
" 'Please tell William that this is a formal invitation, to make his entrance into the mansion easier.' Sounds like she knows you, Spike. 'Love, Daria and Oz.'"
"So, Willow, can you get the names of some male dancers in New York?" Anya looked a little dreamy. "Those were much enjoyed at my bachelorette party last year."
" 'P.S.,'" Buffy continued reading, " 'Tell Anya that I do not want to have male strippers at my bachelorette party. Also, Oz says that Cordelia should be calling soon to ask questions about the wedding, me, and what she should wear.'" The phone rang at this moment of stunned silence, and it took three rings before Willow reached over and answered it.
"Magic Box. Oh, hi Cordelia! Yes, we just got the invitation as well." Willow's eyes widened as she continued the conversation. "Yes, we're staying at the school as well. Xander's best man, and her friend Jane is maid of honor. No, there aren't any bridesmaids. Yes, we know Daria pretty well. I think she just wants us to dress nicely, but not too formal. All right, Cordy, I'll talk to you later." She hung up the phone and returned to her silent friends.
"Well, that was spooky," commented Xander.
________________
The assembled group of X-Men milled around the dining room, drinking coffee and chatting.
< May I have your attention? > The room slowly became quiet as Professor Xavier entered. "I have an announcement to make, everyone."
"Let me guess. You've decided to retire and move to Hawaii."
"No, Logan. We have been invited to a wedding."
"Volunteering to stay behind and guard the mansion, sir."
"Bishop, you do not yet know whose wedding we are attending."
"I bet it's the NCC," said Jubilee, taking a sip of her Dr. Pepper.
"Shorty and the Wolf? Makes sense."
"I wasn't finished." The buzz settled down, and everyone turned to look at the professor. "I gave them permission to have the wedding here."
"Oh boy, this should be fun." Lyetta exchanged glances with her sisters, rubbing her hands in participation of the pranks she could pull. At the other end of the table, Bishop had dropped his head into his hands, already contemplating the security fiasco that would result. The ladies of the mansion immediately began planning out the bachelorette party, while Logan silently plotted ferretting out the best man and pointing out the best spots to go out drinking. Charles gave up in his quest to give further instructions.
______________________
Jodie wearily sank down onto the sofa of the off-campus apartment she shared with Tom. < Only one more year until graduation, > she told herself, picking up the mail she had tossed onto the coffee table and sorting it out quickly. The bills she put back on the table, Tom would take care of them later. < Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail. What's this? > She settled back against the soft cushions and carefully tore open the envelope. < Daria's getting married? > Despite the fact that she was engaged to a man who had once dated Daria, she found herself hard-pressed to picture Daria that deeply involved with someone, and the only likely candidate that presented himself was a mixture of a beatnik, a literature professor, and the Unabomber. Jodie rested her hand on the phone, preparing to call either Daria or Jane to dig out information, but was interrupted before she began when Tom came in, a pizza box in his hands.
"Hey, you." He set the box down and leaned in for a quick kiss. "What's that?"
"An invitation to Daria's wedding."
"Daria's getting married?" Tom pulled the invitation out of her hand, reading through it quickly. "Daniel Osbourne?"
"I was getting ready to call and ask for details."
"So go ahead." He plopped down on the sofa next to her and began flipping through the mail, oblivious to her glares.
"Tom, I can't talk girl talk if you're right there." She shooed him from the room, picked up the phone, and dialed the number on the bottom of the invitation.
"You've reached the hub of wedding insanity. Who do you want to talk to, and what do you want to know?"
"Daria? Is that you?"
"That depends. Is this really Jodie, or is this a telemarketer?"
"Really Jodie. How are you?"
"Oh, I can't complain." Daria dropped back into her fiance's lap. "How about you?"
"Pretty good. I got your wedding invitation in the mail today."
"That's good to know. Are you coming?"
"I guess so. Can you give me directions?"
"Sure." Daria rattled off three different ways to get to the school. "Got it?"
"Mm-hmm. So, tell me about Daniel."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, what does he do?"
< He changes into a seven-foot tall wolf. > "He's a psychologist. We both have teaching positions at Xavier's."
"How did you two meet?"
< He smelled irresistible. > "We had a chemistry class together."
"What's he like?"
"5'6", red hair, green eyes, and a brilliant mind." Daria smiled as Oz whispered something into her ear. "Oh, and he says to tell you that he's a wonderful kisser."
"That's not what I said!" Jodie caught herself starting to laugh as she listened in to the conversation. "Whoever you are, I didn't say that! I told her to ask what you wanted for the dinner."
"Jodie, I'll have to talk to you later," Daria said, suddenly breathless. Jodie had a good idea what had caused that condition. She hung up the phone, still chuckling softly.
"So, what did you find out?"
_________________________
Oz rearranged the bags of groceries in his arms as he walked down the hallway to Daria's apartment. When he had left an hour ago, she was still going through the cabinets deciding what to keep through the move and boxing it up. Jane would pack up what was left and give it to charity while they were on their honeymoon. The honeymoon. Oz smiled at the thought. < Only two more weeks. >
The door was locked when he got there, and he dug through his pockets for the key, wondering where she had gone. The smell assaulted his senses when he walked into the apartment, and he had to steel himself before he went looking for Daria, the scent of raw sorrow and pain guiding him to the kitchen. She was sitting on the floor underneath the telephone on the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, dry eyes staring blankly ahead. The psychologist in him would have felt better about the situation if she had been crying, although the fiance would still have been perturbed. Oz knelt down in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. There was no reaction. "Love?" She gave no response. "Love, what happened?" The woman remained silent, her eyes fixed unblinkingly before her. The werewolf was just debating the best way to move her when the door flew open and Faith strode in, anger practically crackling off of her body as she stood in front of the couple.
"Where does her mother live?"
"What?"
"Where does her mother live, Oz? Tell me right now, or I'll track her down myself and beat her into a bloody pulp."
"What happened? She was like this when I got here."
"Pick her up and move her to the sofa, and I'll tell you what I know." The Slayer paced around the apartment, heading back into the room that she was staying in and coming back out with a thick blanket, which she draped over the Tracker. "You know we've been working on the link, right?" At his nod, she continued, raising her voice as she headed back into the kitchen. "I don't know everything that happened. I wasn't here for any of it, but somewhere at the beginning of it all she started broadcasting over the link." Coming back into the room, she leaned against the partial wall between the two rooms. "Her mother called."
"I figured out that much." Faith gave him a dark look and retreated back into the kitchen, returning after a few moments with a tray. She set it down on the small stack of sealed packing boxes and poured out three cups of tea. "You've gotten pretty good at that."
"It doesn't take a genius. I've watched her do it enough." She handed Oz his cup and turned back to Daria, moving her friend's hands into a position where she could hold the tea mug.
"Not a good idea."
"Just watch." Faith placed the mug into Daria's hands, watching in satisfaction as she closed her fingers around the warmth. "She's still in there, Oz. We've been talking to each other the whole time. Well, maybe talking isn't the word for it, but there has been some communication." The Slayer dropped to the floor in an oddly graceful move, reaching up for her own drink. "Anyway, her mother called. She'd started doing a little digging about certain people. You. Me. Anybody she could hook with her daughter. Helen didn't like the results. Maybe because her daughter's boyfriend had taken five years to graduate from high school, and had dropped out of college at least once. Maybe because the woman sharing her daughter's apartment was an unemployed ex-con." Faith took a sip of her tea, watching over the rim of the cup as Daria did the same. "The wedding invitation arrived today." Daria blinked, her face unreadable, and leaned in closer to Oz. "When Helen found out that Jake had known about it all, she called and began screaming."
"She's not coming to the wedding," Daria said, her voice monotone. "She doesn't want to have anything to do with me, ever again. She says I'm wasting my life, marrying some slacker and going to a dead-end job at a school that would probably close down before the year was out." She shivered, and Oz put his arms around her, pulling the blanket up over the both of them. "Helen also had some choice words about Faith."
"I bet."
"Like I care what some crackpot judgemental lawyer thinks about me," said Faith, smirking up at her friend. "To tell you the truth, that was the only part I enjoyed."
"She thinks Faith is selling drugs out of my apartment, and is probably a prostitute who brings her johns back here."
"Interesting. So why the violence, Faith?"
"After she got done criticizing you and me, she moved on to Daria." Faith's face looked stormy again as she stood up and headed back to the kitchen with the tray, returning a few moments later with a fresh pot of tea. "Quit trying to keep me busy," she muttered as she fixed her friend a second cup.
"Who's trying to keep you busy? I just wanted another cup of tea." Daria smiled a sad half-smile at the Slayer. "If it keeps you from committing another felony, that's just a bonus."
"It's only a felony if you get caught." Faith's slightly predatory smile did little to reassure Oz, and he quickly turned his attention back to the woman in his arms.
"So what else happened?"
"After she accused me of 'shacking up with some loser like a piece of trailer trash', I got mad. I asked why she even cared, since she hadn't had a thing to do with my life since I was eighteen. It got nastier after that."
"How much nastier?" Daria remained silent, burrowing her face against his chest. "That bad, huh?"
" 'I won't help you flush your life down the toilet. If you want to marry that boy, go ahead. But you won't hear anything from me again.' She hung up after that." Faith sprawled across the floor in front of the couch. "Maybe she'll cool down and call back."
Daria shook her head. "You don't know Helen. Once she says something, she's stubborn enough to carry it out." She sighed and wrapped her arms around Oz. "I just didn't think she'd go this far."
"Screw Helen," said Faith, getting off the floor and sitting down on the sofa on the Oz-free side of Daria. "We're your family now. If Helen doesn't know you by now, she doesn't deserve to know you."
"She's my mother. I owe her some respect at least."
"I think you've given her enough respect already. Daria, nobody's ever treated me the way you do. You don't just see the darkness. You don't just see the light. You see me." Faith looked at her friend, her mouth quirking up into an almost-smile. "You're the closest thing I've got to a sister, and nobody messes with my sister. That goes for you too, Oz. I ever find out that you hurt her, and I'll come after you."
"As if Logan wasn't enough of a threat."
"Logan?"
"Logan's a friend of mine. He threatened Oz with dismemberment with the same qualifications." Daria's look turned contemplative, then slightly scheming. "When he comes over to help us move, you can meet him."
______________________
"Victandra, you are coming with me to Washington, DC."
"As your dog?"
"No, as my daughter. I already traveled with Lyetta and Emily. It's your turn."
"I pass."
"No. I have some friends that I'd like to introduce you to and I would prefer to have your opinion on a few suspected mutants. We'll be gone for about a week. Please pack accordingly and be ready for flight in two hours." Victandra started to speak rebelliously and Charles interrupted, "You are piloting the Blackbird." She shut her mouth, shrugged and walked away. Scott watched her determined stride and grinned.
"You lucked out. She talked back, in sentences."
"And that raises her to a grand total of 21 words this week."
"And it's only Wednesday. The Word Miser might break a record yet."
"I hope so, we have appointments with several influential ambassadors, not to mention members of X-Force, and our favorite senators."
"Just your normal father-daughter bonding."
"Now if only she doesn't make a scene."
______________
Sarah cried. She didn't care if she was making a scene; it was a funeral, that's what people did. However, this was her father's funeral and the only family she had left was a bitter grandfather who blamed her for her mother's death. Her Math teacher from the Christian school stopped in front of her to convey her sympathy.
"I am sorry, Sarah. He was a good man. He raised you well and now he is with your mother. You know how much he missed her."
Sarah sniffed and nodded. Miss Secor hesitated, glanced at her scowling grandfather then continued, "I talked with Mr. Spencer and he agreed that you could remain in Santa Anna until after the Washington DC trip." Sarah looked up, surprised. She didn't have the money. "The students pitched in and raised the funds for you. A goodbye present of sorts."
"But, but . . ."
"Sarah, we will miss you and we all knew how you used your college savings to help pay for the bills. Please let us do this for you."
Sarah considered her options and then agreed. She had wanted to see the east coast. The trip would delay the inevitable.
_______________
In the hotel, Victandra laid curled up on her bed as she watched her father write on his laptop. She was bored. The day hadn't been too terrible; she had talked with several intelligent people. The highlight had been stumping the ambassador from Germany in his own language with word play. She was surprised at the ease with which she slid back into the role of politics. Her father was surprised that she had been civil. There was a knock at the door and she morphed out of her panther form to answer it. Charles was engrossed in his work. Through the peek hole she recognized a mutant from the pictures in the gallery, so she opened the door. There stood a giant. A man taller than her, about the size of Ymmit. He looked confused and spoke in a thick Russian accent.
"I'm here to see Professor Xavier."
"Oh, yes Peter. Please come in. Peter this is my daughter Victandra, Victandra Neramani this is Peter Rasputin."
"A Pleasure." Victandra nodded, noticing that the mutant was nervous, needing to talk. She grabbed her jean jacket, a handgun and a stake.
"Be back."
"Thank you Victandra." She shrugged and walked out the door. Suddenly a cell phone appeared in front of her. She shook her head ruefully and put the floating object in her coat pocket.
The night was cool and damp and she wandered around enjoying the relative silence. Victandra could smell the nearby river and the tension the city created. Then she smelled death, the kind of walking dead with pointy teeth. The mutant picked up the pace and the trail. The vampire was stalking someone. A female that smelled familiar. But that was odd; Daria wouldn't be any where near the nation's capital. Her sensitive ears heard a scream and she took off running. A few moments later she found the prey. A vamp feeding off a slight brunette.
"Back off demon."
The demon snarled back and dropped its meal. "But it tastes so good."
"And you are so dead." The vampire attacked only to be dusted as the stake found its target. "You lose." Victandra checked the victim. She was alive but barely. Her eyes fluttered at the shape shifter's touch. Victandra tore her clean shirt to form a bandage. After careful application, she picked up the teenage, and ran to the hospital she had seen on her walk-about. The hospital was relatively quiet until her arrival. Two doctors put the wounded girl on a gurney and wheeled her to the operating room.
"Are you family?"
Victandra look at the receptionist and lied. "Her name is Sarah, my father is her guardian. I must call him." She ignored the nurse and walked out to the street and dialed the cell phone.
"Good evening."
"Jordan, where's Hank?"
"He's out somewhere. Do you want me to find him?"
"No. You are good with computers I need you to do something for me." Victandra dug through the victim's purse. "I need you bring up any files on a Sarah Leukhardt. She's from California, 17, and here's her driver's license number."
"Got it."
"Any family?"
"Not really. Her father died last week and her mother years ago."
"Good. Fix the files so that Xavier is her guardian."
"But . . ."
"Do it now. I don't care how."
"Yes ma'am."
"Done?"
"Yep. I'll need to clean up the work, but anyone looking for her would find it."
"Good. Register her for school too."
"Okay. Is the professor okay with . . ." Victandra hung up the phone and walked back into the hospital to argue with the receptionist.
_________________
Xavier was starting to get nervous. He had solved Colossus' problem but Victandra had left hours ago. The cell phone was giving him a busy signal. He waited. If he could have walked, he would be pacing. It wasn't that Victandra couldn't take care of herself; it's just that she was his daughter. The sun was beginning to rise in the east. That meant that if she were still alive, half her enemies would be in hiding. Finally the door opened and Victandra walked through. She was covered in blood and simply collapsed on the bed. Xavier moved the wheel chair next to her. She had no wounds. The blood did not appear to be hers. Xavier sighed and continued his vigil. Several hours later she woke up. She glanced around and met his eyes.
"You're covered in blood." She looked down at her clothes and then the bed. It was a mess.
"How did you get so much blood on your person?"
"Playing hero."
"Did the victim make it?"
"Yes."
"And the assailant?"
"Dust."
"Why were you so tired when you came in?"
"Tracker blood is like a homing beacon to the undead."
"Do I want to know how many?"
"No." She got up, gathered some clean clothes and walked to the shower. She turned around to give one last parting shot. "Oh, by the way. Quote of the night: 'You're the Slayer. What circle of hell spawned you?' "
"What happened between the two sentences?"
"I morphed into a Rancor."
"Oh, dear."
"By the way, I put two thousand dollars of medical expenses on your account."
"For whom?"
"Your new ward. A Tracker."
_________________
Sarah awoke in the hospital bed, dazed. She shivered; she hated hospitals. Her mother died in one and they smelled bad. Sarah did not realize that she had spoken out loud until the stranger at the door replied.
"That's because you smell the fear and the suffering, not to mention the death." The stranger was a tall oriental girl with a gold choker.
"Do I know you?"
The girl smirked, "I brought you in. My name is Vic and the hospital staff believes you to be my father's ward."
"I'm not."
"You are. Your grandfather was surprised that no one had mentioned that you had earned a full ride scholarship to Xavier's School for the Gifted."
"I did?"
"Yes. And your grandfather agreed that a guardian was needed that lived in the same state as you were residing. My father, as administrator of the school and guardian of several other students, was the most obvious candidate."
"Why?"
The teenager glanced at the closed door, "Do you remember what happened last night?"
"I couldn't sleep and went out for a walk. Somebody started chasing me, and I started running. He . . .he grabbed me, and then, . . . nothing."
Victandra nodded, her decision made. "You were injured in the neck, and there was some severe blood loss. Father is going to get you released this afternoon. We will take you home with us to Westchester, and then we'll introduce you to some people who will help you to learn how to use your gifts."
"You mean the music thing?" The girl nodded and turned to the door. A bald man in a wheelchair had come into the room.
"You must be Sarah. I'm Charles Xavier. I understand you had a bit of excitement last night."
Sarah nodded wearily. "I just want to get out of here."
"You're not the only one," muttered the other girl, standing up. "Father, is she released?"
"Yes, she is."
"Let's go, then."
______________________
Daria straightened up from her place on the floor, bending backwards to get rid of the kinks that had developed in her back. "This one's full." She taped down the flaps and pushed it away into the next room, then reached for another empty box.
"If I'd known you had this many books, I wouldn't have volunteered for this." Xander reached down for the fifth full box, staggering a bit as he carried it outside. Daria watched her husband's best friend with sympathy as she finished up the last box and sealed it shut.
"It was either this or hang out with the girls unpacking at the other end while they talk girl-talk and plan the bachelorette party." Oz stopped his struggles with the dismantling of the bed from the guest room long enough to point this out to the other man.
"Please, oh please, no male dancers," Daria whispered to herself as she headed into the kitchen, coming back out with three glasses of lemonade.
"Logan's planning on taking me out to scout around for a place for the bachelor party." Xander leaned back against the wall as he drank the liquid rapidly, missing the glance that passed between the couple. Daria had faith that the mutant wouldn't allow Xander to come into too much harm, but he wouldn't mind embarrassing Xander at all. She had asked Faith to tag along and watch out for the man, who had yet to be informed of this development.
"Why don't you have the party at the mansion? Your responsibility will be much easier." Daria settled herself on the floor and began to slowly drink her lemonade, surveying the bare shelves and walls with satisfaction.
"My responsibility?"
"You're responsible for making sure I show up at the wedding with all parts intact, clothed, and in my right mind," said Oz, downing his drink before standing up. "Which means you have to stay at least as sober as I am."
"So pretty much no drinking, then." Xander looked disappointed, eliciting smirks from the other two.
"Right. Now, time for more moving fun. Let's head over to Oz's little hole in the wall."
_________________________
Xander leaned against the bar, half-drunk and extremely bored. He had known he would be a lightweight compared to either Logan or Faith, but this was ridiculous. The Slayer had decided to come along on their little expedition. She and Logan had gained a small crowd around their tiny table, and shouts rose up from the brunette's side as she downed another shot glass, turning it upside down and lining it up neatly with the others. "It's your turn, old man," she taunted, her voice slightly slurred. Logan leaned over the table and reached for the bottle, pouring himself another glass.
"The day a woman drinks Logan under the table is the day I give up my bike for a corporate job," muttered a tattooed man to Xander's left.
"I don't know man, she's keeping up pretty good. I know they both beat the old record."
"Man, where does he find chicks like that?"
"Logan's always been a lucky stiff."
"No man deserves such luck." Tattoo-guy eyed Faith enviously. "You think if she wins, she'll go after someone else?"
"Hell if I know." More shouts rang out as Faith downed shot number twenty-three. "That someone else better watch out if she does. No one touches what belongs to Logan."
"Not unless they want to wake up in ICU three days later." They both turned to watch the contest, which went for four more rounds before Faith stood up unsteadily.
"Ya givin' up, darlin'?"
"Hell no." Faith stretched her arms over her head. "Just gettin' comfortable. This place is just a dump, Logan. I thought you said we were goin' someplace fun."
"After you get past eighteen shots, it's free."
"Xander could get past eighteen of these shots. This is the worst stuff I've had in years." Xander winced, then shrugged. At least they'd remembered him. "Besides," she continued, dropping her voice down so only Logan could hear her, "what's the fun of drinking this much if you don't wake up in somebody's bed? You're too drunk to perform, and Xander's off-limits." The intoxicated men around the bar couldn't hear the challenge but every red-blooded male in the place understood the body-language.
Logan set down his empty shot glass. "I'm not that drunk, darlin'."
"Prove it," Faith purred, leaning down over him. Logan stood up, his own gait a little shaky for a few steps, and headed for the door with the Slayer in tow. Xander followed them out, his ears ringing with the cat-calls of the observers, paying for his drinks as he left. He turned at the familiar sound of fighting, watching as the pair, who were well on their way to becoming staggeringly drunk, effortlessly beat four guys who he remembered from the first bar of the night. As the last man dropped to the ground, Logan shoved Faith against the wall and began to fiercely kiss her.
"Guys?"
"Go away, Xander!" Faith pushed Logan back into the alley and returned his actions.
"Um, OK." He got ten steps away before he remembered that they had the car keys, and turned back to retrieve them. By the time he had arrived, they were both gone. "Drat. How am I supposed to get home?"
_________________________
"So you don't know where either Faith or Logan have been for the last two days?"
"No idea. Every time I try to contact her, I get a little more information than I wanted to know about Logan's prowess. I knew they'd get along really well, but I didn't think it would happen quite this quickly."
"Faith was never the one to wait patiently. She once explained her life's philosophy to me as this: Want. Take. Have." Buffy dodged the movement of the sword and attempted a sweep-kick that Daria easily leapt. "You know," she said, executing a series of stacatto kicks and punches that the Tracker neatly avoided, "it's a lot easier to spar with someone when they don't know all your moves beforehand."
"It's good for you. Keeps you in practice," said Daria, dropping her sword and moving into a martial arts stance. "This way if you ever fight against a telepathic demon, you'll know what to do." She landed several blows to Buffy's upper body, then used the Slayer's own momentum to sweep her feet out from under her.
"Call for back-up?" Buffy did a backflip to regain her feet and renewed the fight.
"In a way, yes." They exchanged blows silently for a few moments, then Daria side-stepped a punch that would have knocked her unconscious and side-kicked the Slayer, putting the other woman off-balance. "The only way you can use this to your advantage is to backtrack the link. For someone to know your moves before you make them, he has to establish a mental link. You can follow that link back to his mind and give him the same treatment. It's something that's totally unexpected by most telepaths."
Sarah watched the two women spar, the movements so coordinated and graceful that they seemed like a dance, and felt overwhelmed. The professor had introduced her to both of them two days ago when he had brought her here, and explained that they would be helping her learn to use her abilities, but neither of them seemed inclined to talk music with her. Her attention was taken away from the scene before her when a short red-headed man sat down next to her on the bench. "Think you're ready for that?"
"I don't understand. How is learning how to fight supposed to help me with my music?"
"It's not. I am. Daria and Buffy are going to be training you to use your other abilities."
"What other abilities?"
He studied her for a moment. "The ones you apparently haven't been told about. Daria, Buffy, can you come over here for a moment?"
"What?" Daria turned to her fiance, jumping forward to avoid a second sweep-kick. She missed the one that followed directly after, however, and fell to the ground. "Buffy, if I have a bruise on my rear end during my honeymoon I'll come after you."
"You're the one who wanted to spar." The Slayer helped her friend up, and they headed over to the bench. "What's up?"
"Vic and Charles left out a few important details when explaining things to Sarah."
"Such as?"
"Anything other than her musical abilities."
"Oh boy." Daria carefully sat down six inches from Oz in an attempt to remain undistracted as she prepared herself for the talk. "Long version or short version."
"Long version."
"Let's head to the kitchen to get some food, then."
"Do you have food every time you explain this?"
"Yes, I do. With the number of times I've had to explain it recently, I should be thankful I can still fit into my wedding dress. For two people that supposedly have to keep their double life secret, a surprisingly large number of people know about us." When they were comfortably ensconced in the kitchen, a piece of apple pie in front of each person, Daria launched into her explanation.
"You and I are something called Trackers. It's a heritage that you were born into, although most families are unaware by this point." Daria rattled off a list of the things that Sarah might have noticed about herself recently. "We're counterparts to a group of people called Slayers. Take a bow, Buffy." The blond stood up and gave a short bow, then plopped back down and finished off her apple pie. "Eventually, you and Buffy will probably be working together."
"Why not you and Buffy?"
"The simple version: I'm tied to the East Coast, Buffy's tied to the West Coast. Besides, I've been working for the last month with a Slayer named Faith, who's going to get it big time when she shows up."
"Nice to know you care, Daria." Faith was leaning against the door frame, a smug smile on her face. "Did you guys save me any pie?"
"And where exactly have you been, young lady?" Daria attempted to tug down a smile and appear stern, an attempt which failed quickly. "I don't have to ask what you've been doing."
"We caught a flight out to Nevada."
"Vegas?"
"Yup."
"Details later."
"Sure thing."
"In the mean time, Faith, meet Sarah."
"Tracker?"
"Yes. We get to train her to work with Buffy."
"Could you guys quit talking about me like I'm not here." Sarah glared at the two women. "Anyway, I have a few questions. What exactly do we track?"
"Vampires. Demons. Lawyers, occasionally. Say, I have this woman that I want to track down. Think you could help?"
"Faith, we agreed to lay off my mother."
"Wolf-boy agreed, I didn't."
"Vampires?"
"Vampires exist. We can introduce you to three of them. Buffy, I'm sure you can handle the introduction to William." The Slayer stuck her tongue out at her friend.
"I will not lower myself to make a comment."
"You just did." The group broke out into laughter at the blond's expense.
_____________________
Eleanor watched the videotape for the third time, the difficulties that she had been encountering now explained. "So the little Slayer found herself a Tracker. That explains quite a bit. Thank you, Mystique."
"Just as long as we're clear. I want the woman who killed my Eric." The shapeshifter's yellow eyes glittered with the anticipation of the kill.
"And I will avenge my Jasmine by destroying the Slayer." The scorceress closed her eyes. She could almost feel Jasmine smiling at the thought. "Soon, my daughter. Soon."
______________________
Daria's hands trembled slightly, and she took another sip of tea to disguise her nervousness. Of course, it's hard to hide something like that when you're telepathically linked to someone. Faith smiled at her friend sympathetically.
"You should have just done the Vegas thing. Trust me, that's the route to go. No worries, no long-drawn out ceremonies, just a few words and then the fun begins."
"So they wouldn't all kill Oz and me if we hopped on a plane right now?"
"I didn't say that." Faith stood up and headed over to the small bathroom that was a part of her friend's bedroom. She returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. "Here, take this for your headache." The Tracker obediently swallowed the two pills. "Now get in there and take your shower. You'll feel much better. I'm going to find your maid of honor. This is her job." Faith ducked out into the hall, nearly tripping over the black panther sprawled out in front of the door. "Vic, what're you doing out here?" The cat blinked big green eyes at the Slayer. "Have you seen Jane around?" Faith could swear she heard the shape-shifter laughing as she stood up languidly and headed around the corner. The bachelorette party had been held two nights before, and the witch had gotten very, very drunk. Jane had spent the entirety of the day yesterday in bed with a hangover, something it was difficult for Faith to sympathize with. Immortality plus Slayer healing equaled an almost limitless alcohol tolerance. Logan was the only other person she had found who could match her drink for drink.
Jane was curled up in her bathroom, her face the color of oatmeal. "This has to be the worst hangover I've ever had in my life," she moaned.
"C'mon, get up, you have to be ready for the ceremony in three and a half hours!" The witch only moaned again, hanging her head over the toilet. "Jane, Daria's going to kill me if I go back and tell her that her maid of honor is out for the count!"
"I wonder if it really is too late to go for Vegas." Daria was standing in the doorway in her bathrobe, her hair still damp. Faith listened as the doorbell ushered in a few early guests.
"Trust me, it's too late."
________________
Oz gripped the neck of his guitar a little tighter. "So Jane's sick, and Faith's filling in?"
"That's what it looks like. Janey never could hold her alcohol well." Trent gently pulled the instrument away and put it into it's case.
"The important part is that Daria's still here, and the wedding is in three hours." Xander watched as his best friend paled noticeably. "What are you so worried about?"
"We should have flown out to Vegas."
"It's too late for that now. Daria's dad just showed up. Sheesh, you'd think a man that used to play guitar in the most popular band in Sunnydale would be able to handle a little crowd like this. You don't even have to come up with anything on your own, just repeat what's said to you at the appropriate times." By this time Xander had the man standing up and was leading him over to the closet. He had taken the tuxedo out of it's dry-cleaning bag. "I refuse to dress you. You can take care of that on your own. Hey, man, don't worry about it. When you see her start down the aisle, everything else just doesn't matter anymore. You just have to make it through the three hours beforehand."
"If I can make it that long."
"I have faith in you, Oz. Now, get in that bathroom and get that tux on." The redhead disappeared through the bathroom door. Xander turned to Trent. "I am so proud of him. I threw up for five hours before my wedding last year."
"Hey, you dated that girl Cordelia, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"She's cool. Think I should ask her out?"
"She lives in LA and works for Angel."
"So she should know about the club scene out there, and she can handle souled vampires."
< Ah, another hapless victim caught in the mystery that is Cordy. >
____________________
Eleanor stood just inside the gate, watching the chaos of the wedding with a grim smile on her face. She had shrouded herself with a spell to avoid detection, and had simply walked through the gates when a car had been allowed inside. As long as she remained outside of the edges of the Tracker's influence, she would remain safely unnoticed until it was too late. She settled herself onto the grass and set out the items that she would need for the spell to trap that Summers girl in an enchanted room. The Immortal had moved past the the idea of merely killing the Slayer. It would be much more enjoyable to torture her for an eternity.
Mystique, her unlikely counterpart in this plot, had made her own private arrangements to interrupt the loving couple's honeymoon. Eleanor cared little for the other members of this little tableau, personally, but she had to let the shape-shifter have her fun. After all, it was only fitting, if a little overdone, to kill the woman who had murdered Eric on the happiest night of her life. A little melodrama now and again was good for the soul.
_________________________
Daria drew a shuddering breath in an attempt to calm her jangling nerves. Her hands had stopped shaking, at least, although they were still cold. Quinn draped the veil over the back of the gown. She had chosen a classical style that reminded Daria of Renaissance Faires, and as the bride slowly turned, Quinn nodded approvingly. "I knew that would suit you, Daria. You've always been been ideally suited for that time period."
"How unfortunate that I happened to be born in the age of blue jeans." Her voice was deadpan as she turned from the mirror to look at her sister.
"You won't think that after standing up in that thing for the next several hours. You won't be able to sit until after pictures. That stuff wrinkles horribly." After tucking a few curls into place, Quinn caught up her sister's cold hands in her warm ones, the blue tattoo on her left wrist peeking out of her dress sleeve. "I won't get to do this after the wedding, so let me do it now. I'm proud of you, sis. Mom is insane for going through with this, and she's damned lucky Dad buys into that concept of 'til death do us part', or she'd be holding divorce papers right now. Dad and I are here for you, no matter what. Even though Dad will never be able to understand your other life."
"Thank you, Quinn."
"Only ten more minutes as a free woman, Daria. Want to spend them alone, or with some friends?"
"Stay, Faith. I don't have anything I want to talk about, but I don't want to be alone right now."
______________________
Oz stood completely still in his assigned place. Xander was a little surprised at his composure until he happened to brush his hand against the man's arm and feel the slight shakiness that came from every nerve being held taut. "Hang in there, man, the waiting's almost over." The beginning swell of the wedding march made the werewolf jump and the crowd titter. Faith made her way down the aisle first, to the confusion of those who had not been made aware of the change. Logan looked on proudly as his wife winked at him before taking her place at the side. Then everyone stood up as Daria began the walk on her father's arm. Oz caught his breath as she headed down the aisle, her dark chestnut hair shining through her veil. As she came closer he could smell her scent, warm and living and vital to his own life, like oxygen. Xander was right, nothing else mattered.
___________________
Jodie dragged Tom into the receiving line, waiting patiently while the well-wishers filtered through. "So, this is Daniel. I heard you're a good kisser."
"Honey, this is Jodie. And Tom."
"Hey." Oz shook their hands in turn, his gaze lingering on the other man for a moment before turning back to Jodie. "You're the one who called that day?"
"That would be me, yes." Jodie hugged Daria, and she returned the embrace with only a small amount of awkwardness. "I wish you all the best, Daria."
"Thanks, Jodie." When the young woman had left, Daria leaned against her husband. "Are they gone now?"
"Pretty much." He slipped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "It's almost over. We'll slip in for the cake, dance a couple of dances, run for the car, and make a break for it."
"That last one after I change out of this dress. I swear, it weighs as much as I do." Daria arranged the short train, then reached up for her husband's arm. "Ready when you are."
The reception sped by faster than either one had hoped for, and Daria found herself clutching Oz's arm as they stood just inside the door of the mansion. Lyetta and Jubilee had passed out the little packets of sesame seeds, and the Tracker's free hand was holding the heavy skirt, trying desparately to not wrinkle the ivory satin.
"Ready, love?" Daria nodded, and Oz lead her out to the car, blocking her from the majority of the pelting. The students had, with their usual taste, decorated the car with streamers and shaving cream, and had tied two sets of shoes to the bumper. Remy probably wouldn't like it when he got his car back.
Oz pulled away from the front door amidst shouts and cat-calls. He drove around the mansion, stopping at the back door, and they ran in again, heading up to the room they would now share. He helped her out of her dress, and she hung it up in the closet after she had slipped into a pair of jeans and a lacy dark green shirt. His tux got a similar treatment, and when he was wearing much more comfortable clothes they headed back to the car to drive off to New York. Duncan's wedding present was a week at the Plaza, all expenses paid, and they intended to enjoy every moment of it.
____________________
Eleanor smiled when she felt her powers returning to their normal level. < Good, the Tracker has left. Time to get started. > She began to chant softly, the objects in the circle glowing as the spell began to pick up momentum. Inside the house, Buffy, crumpled to the ground, suddenly weakened. Spike rushed to her side, lifting her up slightly before looking into her eyes, which had turned completely white.
"Red, get over here!" Willow rushed to her friend's side, her face turning ashen.
"Giles, Jane, um, anybody else who knows magick, get over here! Somebody's doing a soul capture!"
"But you have to be in close proximity to do that spell. Sarah's presence should have disrupted it." Giles leaned over the woman whom he regarded as a daughter.
"Sarah's powers aren't as developed as Daria's. She's not close enough. Sarah, come over here!" The young Tracker ran to the Slayer, and as she approached Buffy began to show signs of coming back.
Eleanor cursed in Scandanavian and brushed her blond hair back from her face. Somebody was blocking her magic. < Looks like I'll have to do this the hard way. > Picking up her sword, she stalked toward the majestic building. The collective signal from other Immortals gave her pause before she continued on her quest for vengeance.
Inside the mansion, Adam grasped his sword and stood up. "Eleanor." The ancient one marched to the door and went out, meeting the Immortal scorceress on the front lawn.
"I do not wish to take your head, foolish one." The woman looked at the tall, thin man imperiously. "Give me the Summers girl, and you shall live."
"My name is Methos, and I claim the Slayer as my responsibility." Duncan looked at his friend with a small amount of confusion. The five-thousand year old man had never before spoken with such a conviction.
"You? Methos?" Eleanor's tinkling laugh floated over the future battle-scene. "I've seen more imposing lawn statues."
Adam looked down at the sword in his hand, closed his eyes, and spoke the words he hadn't spoken in decades. "There can be only one." He raised his sword, and the battle began.
___________________
Oz slipped an arm around his wife's waist as they walked down the long hallway of the hotel. The female bellhop opened up the door for them, and the werewolf took the opportunity to scoop Daria up from the floor as they stepped over the threshold. His eyes were on her face as the bellhop carried the suitcase into the room, which was how he missed witnessing the hotel employee pulling out the knife.
"Will that be all, sir?" Her voice was polite and airy, and he nodded distractedly as he kissed the tiny woman in his arms, setting her down so he could free his hands. "Very well." The motion was so swift that it would have been a blur to even the couple's enhanced senses, had they been watching it at all. Oz gasped at the pain and looked down at the tip of the dagger protruding from his abdomen.
"Oz!" Daria watched in horror as her husband of less than six hours collapsed to the ground, blood seeping into a puddle around him.
"Now that he's out of the way, why don't you and I move on to the real fun?" The bellhop morphed into a tall, redheaded woman with blue skin, and the Tracker felt the Morgendorffer temper begin to blaze when she realized what was happening. She knelt down, apologizing softly to her husband, and yanked the knife out of his back. He spasmed with the pain, then collapsed back onto the blood-soaked carpet.
"I don't think so." Daria whispered a quick prayer, then began to draw upon every reserve she had. Her patience was rewarded when the other woman began to launch her attack, one that was laughingly familiar. But this time she wasn't sparring with Buffy. She wasn't fighting something evil and undead that she could dust, guilt-free. This was another human being. The smell of Oz's blood filled the room, fueling a rage she didn't know she could feel against another human. The two women fused fighting styles together, each fighting violently for something that they believed in. One fought for vengeance, the other for love. In the end, vengeance didn't stand a chance. Mystique left a hole in her defenses, and Daria took the opportunity without hesitation, burying the knife into the other woman's chest. Breathing heavily, she ran to her husband, checking his wound carefully. Thankfully, the knife hadn't been silver, and his healing factor was closing up the gaping holes as she watched. The phone was in her hand before she realized it, and she called the mansion.
"Hank, we need someone over here right now. Somebody attacked us in the hotel room. I don't know who she was, but she was a shape-shifter. She's dead. I'm fine, but she stabbed Oz. Yes, he's lost a lot of blood. Yes, he's healing. Slowly. What do you mean, you've had a bit of excitement? Well, that would qualify as excitement. How's Adam? I'd imagine. Listen, much as I'd like to chat, my husband is lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Could you please do something about that? Thanks, Hank."
__________________________
Oz woke up in the infirmary of the mansion, panicking for a moment before he caught Daria's scent. She was sitting next to the bed, watching him intently. "Did you know you whimper in your sleep?"
"I do not."
"Do too. It was cute," she said, leaning over him and giving him a quick kiss.
"I'm guessing you won the fight."
"Well, I walked away and she didn't. But I wouldn't say it was a win, exactly. Her name was Mystique. She's Kurt's birth mother, and Rogue's adoptive mother." Her face was etched in pain. The werewolf reached up a hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek. "From what we can patch together, she was trying to avenge Eric's death. She'd been working together with that Immortal sorceress, Eleanor, who lost her head last night about the same time we were having our little adventure."
"That was definitely a memorable, if short honeymoon. We'll have to try it again when someone doesn't want to kill us."
"Count on it."