Vengeance of the Reaper
Macboru
Rating--R (graphic violence)
Mackenzie O'Byrne and Thomas Jager are
my invention based on the preceding copyrighted concepts.
Disclaimer--The concept and characters of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
(Buffy, Xander, Willow, Oz, Joyce, Giles, et all) belong to Mr.
Joss Whedon, Warner Bros. And Mutant Enemy.
The concept and characters of "Highlander" (Duncan and Connor Macleod,
Joe Dawson, Methos, et all) belong to Davis and Panzer Productions
and Rysher Entertainment.
The concept and characters of "The X-Files" (Fox Mulder, Dana Scully,
Walter Skinner, et all) belong to Mr. Chris Carter, 10-13
Productions and 20th Century Fox.
No profit has been or will be made from this story.
Summary--Mackenzie O'Byrne and Buffy Summers are trying to continue
their relationship when Mac's old enemy returns, bringing in his wake
a couple of FBI agents.
Author's note--This a sequel to "Enter the Reaper". If you're looking
for titles in a similar vein, check out "The Axer Carrick Cycle" by
Henry Wyckoff and "Chronicles of the Wanderer" by Steve Pantovich.
Oh, yeah – relationshippers beware. Despite Mr. Carter's stated
preference, I don't quite see how those two keep their hands off one
another. I've fixed that. A second sequel is in the works.
E-mail the author at macboru@hotmail.com
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Vengeance of the Reaper
By macboru
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Prologue
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
0830, Sunday
Buffy Summers stirred and blinked her eyes open. Her boyfriend was
sitting up, leaned back on a pair of pillows he'd propped against the
headboard. Languorously, the young woman pulled herself up to lay her
head on his stomach. Mackenzie O'Byrne lifted his arm to allow her to
settle against him. Gently, he began to stroke her hair.
After a while Buffy softly said "Penny?"
Mac gave a grunt.
"Grrr?" She echoed.
"I was just thinking that since you're over the hill now, I ought to
trade you in on a newer model," he teased. Buffy had celebrated her
twentieth birthday the day before.
"'*Over the hill*'!" she growled. Reaching under the covers for
something vulnerable, she gave the man a hard pinch. That wasn't easy
to do – Mac was more or less built like a rock.
"Ouch!" he yelped.
"'Over the hill'?" she said again, scowling up at him.
"Yeah," he answered. "You know. *Old*."
Buffy wrapped her hand around something sensitive and looked daggers at
her lover. The two of them stared at one another for a long moment.
Mac broke first. A wide smile spread across his youthful features.
After another beat, Buffy returned his smile. The warmth between the
two lovers was palpable.
Releasing her grip, Buffy turned in his arms and got up on her knees.
Grabbing his head with both hands, she leaned forward and kissed him
softly. After a few seconds she sat back.
"So I should pack?" she teased.
Mac gazed at the naked woman kneeling in front of him. She was easily
the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld. "Maybe not just yet," he
seemed to decide finally. "Maybe you've got one or two years left in
you." Buffy rolled her eyes. She was going to look sixteen for the rest
of her life and they both knew it. They also both knew that that
pleased him far more than her. Buffy had an occasional vision of
being carded for a drink on her two hundredth birthday.
Mac smiled at the woman he loved and pulled her close.
On Interstate 5 a dark gray sedan sped south. Early that day its driver
had set out from San Francisco. The car easily wove through the
Sunday morning traffic. Keeping precisely to the posted speed limit,
its passage went unnoticed. There was nothing at all remarkable about
the car. It had been selected by the driver – if not the late owner -
for that very reason.
Driving down the highway, Polovsky saw a road sign informing him that
L.A. was a hundred and fifty miles away. The immortal grinned coldly.
In a few hours he'd be there. Within a day, he'd be in Sunnydale.
Within a week - at the most - he'd take the head of Mackenzie O'Byrne.
Next to the immortal rested a San Francisco newspaper. Its headline
screamed "*Third murder victim found*".
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 1
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
1000, Sunday
Buffy came downstairs and entered the kitchen to be greeted by the
smell of fried eggs and coffee. She fixed a cup, gave Mac a quick
peck on the cheek and sat at the kitchen table to watch him cook. In
a few minutes, Mac set a plate of food in front of her and joined Buffy
at the table. She watched him eat with a disbelieving smile. The
young woman had never seen a man that could consume so much, so
quickly.
"Don't forget, we're having dinner at my Mom's today," she reminded
him. She didn't think he'd have forgotten, she just wanted him to
stop eating long enough to answer. It gave her the opportunity to
shovel some of the food off her plate and on to his. Buffy was a little
afraid of getting her hands too near his food when he was eating.
Completely oblivious to her intention, Mac stopped vacuuming his plate.
"Sure, sweetheart," he answered as she slid half her portion in front
of him. Seeing this, he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Not hungry?"
"Mac," she scolded him, "if I ate everything you put in front of me,
I'd be something like a size twenty."
Mac grinned at her. "I think we can find a way to burn the calories,"
he suggested with the hint of a leer in his voice. Buffy grinned back
at him.
"Cradle robber," she said, and winked.
Buffy and Mac were sitting on the porch, Buffy comfortably ensconced in
his lap, with their feet kicked up on the rail when Thomas Jager
drove up into their driveway on a massive Harley. Setting the kick-
stand, he dismounted the bike and strolled up the steps to the pair. He
carried a newspaper in his hand.
"Hi, Thomas," Buffy said.
Mac called out something in French.
Jager responded in the same language, then turned and nodded at Buffy,
saying in his vaguely German- accented voice, "Hello, Buffy. How are
you today?"
"Suddenly annoyed," she answered. "I think you two do that whole French
thing just to get to me."
The German returned, "In truth, no."
Mac added, "I just don't want this ugly bastard blistering your
innocent young ears, honey." He kissed and nuzzled her neck. Buffy
squirmed in his lap, having a happy. After a moment – and *entirely*
too soon in Buff's estimation – Mac pulled his lips away and said to
Jager, "So, Hunter. What's up?"
Jager handed over the paper and said something else in French. This
time, Buffy understood one of the words. The word was 'Polovsky'.
Feeling her boyfriend suddenly tense beneath her, the young woman
knew she'd heard correctly.
"Whoa, guys! Enough with the whole talking around me thing," she
complained. "I just heard a bad word. It sounded suspiciously like
'Polovsky'."
Mac unfolded the paper. The front page's headline screamed "*Third
murder victim found!*" Buffy's eyes widened as she caught part of the
first paragraph. The words 'murder' and 'rape' jumped out at her.
"*Mierde*!" breathed Mac. Then he was sliding out from under the woman
in his lap, dropping the paper as he rose. Buffy snatched it up as
she thumped into the empty chair. Noticing that the paper was from
San Francisco, she read the story. She heard Mac start shooting a
barrage of questions at Thomas in French.
"Mac!" she warned. "*English*."
Mac switched languages in the middle of a sentence without pause. "-any
idea where he is?"
"Sorry, Reaper. There's not even any proof that he did this,"
temporized Jager.
"It's him," answered Mac flatly.
"We're trying. I called Dawson this morning. We need some luck."
Jager was a Watcher, member of a secret society that observed and
recorded the lives of immortals. The watched – ergo 'Watchers'. The
same circumstances that had brought Mac to Sunnydale had led him to
become aware of the Watchers. Joe Dawson was big in the Watcher
community. The man had proven in the past that he could make miracles
happen. Still, Jager was right – they needed some luck.
Almost all immortals had Watchers. Polovsky's had died in a car wreck
weeks before. Since that time Watchers all over the world had been
looking for him. Mac now knew – knew in his bones – that the bastard
had gone to ground in San Francisco.
Mac had plenty of reason to want him dead *personally*. Polovsky had
killed his teacher, an immortal named Finn Mac Cuhill.
Buffy finished the article and looked up at her lover and his Watcher.
She'd seen that look on Mac's face before. One really bad night
recently she and her best friend Willow had almost died. *Would* have
died, if Mac hadn't thundered in to the basement where they were being
held captive like the wrath of god himself. She had seen him
literally tear the head off of a vampire that night.
He'd had that very expression on his face at the time.
Buffy sat with Thomas in the kitchen drinking coffee. Mac was out back
venting his frustration on one of the two heavy punching bags.
"All right, Thomas, give," she ordered the Watcher. "I'm starting to
have a major wiggins here."
Jager looked at the young woman for a moment, wondering what to say. He
admired Buffy. He had some idea of the horrors she'd dealt with as
the Slayer – the one girl out of her generation chosen to protect
humanity from the vampires. Consequently, he was pretty sure she'd
never dealt with anything like this. A few weeks before, Reaper had
assembled a strike team to help the Slayer clean out the vast bulk of
the vampire population that was infesting Sunnydale, postponing his
pursuit of the immortal Jan Polovsky to do so. During that time,
she'd discovered that she was an immortal. And she and Mac had fallen
in love.
Now her man was gearing up to pursue Polovsky. Jager knew it and so did
she. She wanted to know the details about *why*. More, she deserved
to know.
Jager had been the Reaper's Watcher for nearly ten years. They were
brothers of the Legion, a strong tie. Between that personal
connection and the Watcher's intimate familiarity with the immortal,
Jager had built up great respect for his 'assignment'. Since the two
of them had met, a strong friendship had rapidly grown between them.
Because of all that, he decided to answer Buffy's question as fully as
he could.
"About two hundred years ago – in 1801, to be exact – Reaper's teacher
discovered that a group of nuns had been slaughtered at an abbey in
Silesia – that's in Poland," the Watcher answered in response to her
confused look. "The man who killed them had taken his time. From start
to finish, it probably took more than a month to finish them all.
Their murderer had locked them in chains – the young ones at least.
The others he simply killed outright. The young ones he...played with.
One at a time.
"Seeing what had been done, Mac Cuhill joined the hunt for the 'man'
that had...savaged...them. He was relentless in his pursuit, but came
up dry." The Watcher sipped his coffee.
"Almost two year later," he continued, "Mac Cuhill learned of a similar
spectacle in Austria. Immediately he went there and took up the chase
again. This time he had some luck. He cornered Polovsky in a church.
Holy ground, so he could do nothing but wait. As he sat in the church,
Polovsky taunted him.
"Then Polovsky set the church on fire. In the smoke and confusion, he
escaped, Mac Cuhill dogging his heels. Polovsky had great luck that
day. Somehow, he eluded his pursuer. Yet Mac Cuhill never stopped
hunting him. They even fought a couple of times. Both times, Polovsky
escaped him. Always lucky that one. Just over a month ago, they met
again. Here.
"Again with the bastard's infernal luck! Attacked and weakened by
vampires, Mac Cuhill fell to his enemy. You were here for the rest."
Buffy thought about the day she'd met Mac. At their first meeting the
Slayer had been sitting on the ground, knocked down by an unfamiliar
sensation. Not initially realizing that Buffy was unaware of her
status as an immortal, Mac had believed that *she* was the one that
killed Finn Mac Cuhill and challenged her. Subsequently, he had
informed her of what she was and what that entailed. Their meeting
was the first link in the chain of events caused by Polovsky's killing
Mac Cuhill and ending with Buffy moving in with O'Byrne.
Buffy had known that Polovsky was unfinished business for her
boyfriend. She simply hadn't understood the truth as to why, assuming
Mac's unvoiced obsession was a simple desire for vengeance. Mac hadn't
corrected her assumption. Not wanting to upset her and disturb their
bliss, he'd decided that Polovsky had enough of a head start that, in
effect, hunting for the immortal could be put off.
Now three innocent women were dead. Buffy knew it must be tearing him
apart. Leaving the Watcher in the kitchen, she went out into the
backyard.
Mac had a calm, cold expression on his face as he pummeled the heavy
bag. Dressed only in a pair of sweat pants, the veteran was drenched
with perspiration. His hands were bleeding from the punishment he was
inflicting. The bag was splattered with sweat and blood. As Buffy
watched, he suddenly seized the bag with both hands and began
alternately driving his knees into hit – left, right, left, right...
Finally, Mac collapsed to the ground exhausted. The woman walked over
to him and crouched down on her knees. Seeing that tears were
streaming down his face, Buffy's heart wrenched.
Wrapping her arms around the man, she tried to comfort him. "It's not
your fault, Mac," she said softly.
"No?" Mac growled.
"No," she assured him firmly. "We both know – if you'd known where to
find him, you'd've been off like a shot."
"I could have *looked*," he stated. "I should have hunted him!"
"Where?" she demanded. "And don't say 'In San Francisco' – you didn't
know he was there!"
"Maybe I would have if I hadn't been..." Mac's voice trailed off.
"If you hadn't been *what*, Mac? Helping me? Saving lives here?"
Mac looked away from her. "If I hadn't put my own desire to stay here
ahead of my duty!" he snarled. "If I hadn't decided that you were
more important!"
Buffy looked stricken. 'Oh, God!' she worried. 'Does he blame *me*?'
The young woman sat back away from him as tears of pain formed in her
eyes.
Suddenly, Mac reached out and grabbed her. Pulling her close, he
squeezed her in his arms. For the first time in as long as the
immortal could remember – perhaps the first time in his life – he broke
down and sobbed. The rage and pain he felt at the loss of Finn, his
guilt that he hadn't surrendered his own happiness with Buffy to
track Polovsky, all the years of struggle, death, war and loss
overwhelmed Mac all at once. Holding the woman he loved, he cried in
her arms.
Buffy didn't know how to react. She'd never pictured Mac like this.
Never in her life had she believed she would be comforting someone as
she was at that moment. Not knowing what else to do, Buffy did
exactly the right thing – she held her man quietly as he sobbed.
Jager watched from the kitchen door as his friend cried in Buffy's
arms. After a few moments he went back and sat down at the kitchen
table. After a minute's consideration, the Watcher decided that this
was something that should undoubtedly be recorded for posterity. He
also knew that it wouldn't be. The display in the backyard would
remain secret. Undoubtedly historians of the future would appreciate
reading about the moment when the immortal called the Reaper had become
human, when he was finally pushed past his limit and was confronted
with the choice of becoming a man or a monster.
Too bad.
After a while, Mac quieted. Buffy was gently stroking his hair as she
held him. His own hold of her became less desperate, more tender.
Looking at his lady, he wiped the tears from her face. In a moment,
she did the same for him. Then they kissed.
Breaking his lips away from hers, he whispered, "I love you. Remember
that, no matter what – I love you."
Buffy moaned, "I love you, too," into his cheSt.
Finally, the two of them got up and returned to the house. Seeing that
Jager had left, they quietly moved upstairs and started cleaning up.
Mac climbed into the shower, letting the warmth of the water ease the
last of his tension away. Buffy joined him and began soaping his back.
In a short time the lovers were on the bed, still wet from the
shower. Desperately, they clung to each other, holding on as if
afraid to let go. Buffy cried throughout their coupling, Mac trying to
kiss away her tears.
In the years to come, Buffy always thought it was the sweetest, most
powerful love they ever made.
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
1630, Sunday
Buffy pulled her car into her mother's driveway. The car was all of
three days old. Mac had decided that Buffy required transportation.
With his typically pragmatic approach to problem solving, he'd picked
Buffy up from school, driven her to a car dealership and said 'Pick
one.'
She'd been pretty excited about it at the time. Now, with her entire
world falling apart, the car was just transportation. As soon as she
walked into her mother's house, Joyce saw that something was very
wrong.
"Where's Mac, honey?" she asked her daughter.
"He can't make it, Mom. Something sort of came up."
Joyce studied her daughter intently. Whatever had 'come up' was
obviously serious trouble. Joyce could think of only one thing that
might cause trouble for the veteran – another immortal. At that, she
only knew of *one* immortal that Mac really wanted a piece of.
"That 'something' wouldn't be named 'Polovsky' would it?" she asked.
Buffy's mouth dropped open. "How did... How could..." she stammered
out.
"Joe Dawson and Colonel Deblout told me. What's Mac going to do?"
"Did you hear about those women that were killed in 'Frisco?" Buffy
asked. Joyce nodded. "Well, Mac's decided that Polovsky did it. He's
getting ready to go up there," Buffy's voice devolved into a wail as
she broke down and began to cry.
Joyce went to her daughter and held her.
Scene 3
Sunnydale Ca.
150 Creek St
1700, Sunday (Local)
Mac finished packing his bags and carried them down to his living room.
Jager was waiting for him with his own bag.
"And just what do you think you're doing, Hunter?" Mac asked the
Watcher.
"My job," replied Jager. "I'm your Watcher, remember?"
"To hell with that! We're brothers of the Legion," stated Mac, playing
his hole card.
"Yes, Reaper, we are. And I'm going with-"
"You're gonna stay her and look after Buffy," the immortal cut him off.
"Please."
Jager looked disgusted. Buffy was the Slayer. If it came right down to
it, she was better off looking after herself. Jager maintained no
illusions – he'd just slow her down. Besides, he had a hole card of
his own to play.
"If I let you go off alone and you don't come back, she'll kill *me*,
and you damn well know it!"
Mac looked a little nonplussed at that. Damn, but Hunter was probably
right. Still...
"Brother, *please*," he pleaded. "Buffy's fighting a war *here*.
Despite her friends' experience, you're still the best backup she
could get-"
"After *you*," interrupted Jager. Still, it was obvious Mac wasn't
going to budge. With a sigh, the younger man relented. "All right,
you damn-"
"Tell her I love her, Hunter." With that, Mac walked out of the house.
Behind him, he could just here Jager say, "Bring your ass back in one
piece and tell her yourself, my friend."
Mac threw his bag in the back of the Pathfinder, got in the truck and
drove away.
Scene 4
Sunnydale Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
1800, Sunday (Local)
Joyce answered the knock at the door to find Jager on the front porch.
"Thomas!" she exclaimed. "Do you know where..." Her voice trailed off
as Jager slipped past her. He walked into the living room to find
Buffy sitting, teary eyed, on the couch.
"Is he gone?" Buffy asked him.
Jager nodded. "About a half-hour ago," he confirmed.
"Then why aren't you with him?" she demanded. "You're his Watcher! You
should-" she cut herself off and started crying again. Jager went and
sat next to the young woman on the couch. Gently, he reached out and
placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"For the same reason you're not, Buffy," he answered. "He doesn't want
me there."
Buffy laid her head on his chest and sobbed. After a while, she quieted
down and asked, "Did he say anything?"
"Just that he loved you."
As her daughter sobbed, Joyce sat down on her other side and began
stroking Buffy's back. 'Damn that man!' her mind screamed. To make
her daughter cry like this...
Buffy finally got control of herself again. "He'll be all right, won't
he Thomas?" she asked.
Jager grinned. "Of course he will, my lady," he assured her. "Of course
he will."
Scene 5
L.A., Ca.
I-5 South
1930, Sunday (Local)
Polovsky smiled to himself as he sped south on the last leg of his
trip. In an hour he'd be back in Sunnydale. After he dumped the car.
Damn nosy cop!
Anyway, he'd dump the car, get a new one and finish the drive. He'd
rest tonight. Tomorrow he'd steal O'Byrne's woman. O'Byrne would come
to him and then-
The 'buzz' of a passing immortal took him by surprise. For just a
moment he lost control and the sedan swerved. The contact had been so
brief... Whoever it was must have been heading north.
North...
From *Sunnydale*!
Polovsky grinned. O'Byrne – it had to be O'Byrne. The other immortal
must have heard about the murders and headed north to hunt him!
The surprise of the brief 'buzz' shocked Mac. In an instant of near-
clairvoyance, the truth clicked-- Polovsky – headed south.
South – toward Sunnydale.
Mac hit the very next off ramp. In minutes he was headed back home,
pushing the SUV as fast as it would go.
'God, please let me catch him right here! Right now!'
By the time he reached Sunnydale's outskirts, Mac knew that either
Polovsky had pulled over – assuming it *was* Polovsky – or had
somehow stayed out of detection range ahead of him. Either way, it
didn't matter. If Polovsky *had* come back, he'd made a serious
mistake.
Sunnydale was now Mac's home turf. Between himself, Hunter, Buffy and
her friends, he had the town pretty well wired. The bastard would be
leaving Sunnydale in a box. A *small* box.
Lots of them.
--------------------------------------------------- Part 2
Scene 1
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
2330, Sunday (Local)
"Mulder," complained Dana Scully, "please tell me that you've got a
really good reason to drag me in here at eleven at night."
Fox Mulder looked up from his desk and gazed at his partner. "Yeah,
Scully. I do. We've got just enough time to catch the red-eye to
L.A."
"And why would we be catching the red-eye?"
"You know how you're always complaining I never take you anywhere fun?
Well, I thought we might visit a little spot called *Boca del
Infierno*," he informed her with a crooked smile.
Scully thought about that for a second. "'Mouth of Hell'? You're taking
me to someplace called the 'Mouth of Hell' and you call that fun?"
she demanded.
"Yeah, let's go. I'll explain on the way to Dulles. Our flight to L.A.
leaves in about an hour."
"You remember reading recently about those murders in San Francisco?"
he asked as he drove them through the light late-night traffic.
"San Francisco, Mulder. *San Francisco*," Scully emphasized. "*Not*
L.A. You said we're going to L.A. To the '*Mouth of Hell*' in L.A.,
to be specific."
"I'm getting to that. Anyway, a car was stolen in 'Frisco, its owner
murdered, two days ago. Guess where that car was spotted this
evening?"
"Wild guess. L.A.?" she asked sarcastically.
"Give the lady a cigar. Guess what the connection is?" he teased her.
"Same killer?"
"You got it. The car's owner was killed in an almost identical fashion
– and probably with the same knife – as one of the women. Gutted like
a fish. A couple of hours ago, a cop in the City of Angels pulled
that car over. He's dead, too. Guess how *he* was killed?"
Scully grimaced. "All right. So the serial killer has moved south. If
he's killed a cop, then every policeman in the state will be looking
for him. Why are *we* going?" she persisted. "So far, this doesn't
sound like an X-File."
"Two weeks ago, in San Francisco, a man was beheaded at one of the
locations near where one of the murdered women was snatched. Last
month, *two* men were similarly beheaded in a little suburb of L.A.
called Sunnydale," he explained.
"And you think it's the same killer? Mulder that's a crock and you know
it. Serial killers are very monogamous. They pick one method and stay
with it," Scully reminded him.
"I don't know if it *is* the same killer, Scully. What I do know is
that decapitation murders have been on the rise world wide over the
last ten years. They tend to be centered in certain cities. Namely
Seattle, New York, Paris and London. But *only* centered. They've been
going on all over the place.
"What makes these murders special is a very similar set of reports
surrounding the murders-- sudden storms of 'blue lightning' and , in
many of the cases, very valuable merchandise is left behind," he
finished.
"Drugs?" she guessed.
"Swords," he replied.
In the air, their conversation carried on as Mulder handed his partner
several case files. In each file, the same set of curious
circumstances were reported. Mysterious 'blue lightning' on otherwise
clear days, valuable swords – many of them antiques worth tens or
hundreds of thousands of dollars – and...
Victims whose identities either didn't check out, or who were
themselves suspects in decapitation style murders. Several surviving
suspects turned up repeatedly. Duncan Macleod. Russell Nash. Finn
Bonet. Mackenzie O'Byrne...
Scully finally turned to Mulder. "So..."
"Did you see the name O'Byrne?" he asked. "Macleod?"
She nodded.
"Guess where Mr. O'Byrne just moved to?" he asked.
"Sunnydale?"
"Damn, Scully. You're on a roll. Can you guess where some gentlemen
named Nash and Macleod visited last month?"
The picture was forming. "Sunnydale," she answered. "You think one of
them is the San Francisco killer?"
"What I think is that several suspects in 'Headhunter' cases suddenly
converged in L.A. last month and left two men named Finn Bonet and
Mark Cathay dead in their wake. But all that is just part one,"
Mulder taunted. "Much as I know I'm going to regret this-- what's
'Part two'?"
"Sunnydale sits on what many mystics believe is a gateway to Hell
itself. The first Spanish settlers called it '*Boca del Infierno*' –
the Hellmouth. Where, from time to time, a lot of strange things have
happened. The per capita death rate in Sunnydale is *twelve times*
higher than in L.A. And I don't mean from natural causes. To read the
reports filed by the Sunnydale P.D., they have the worst drug and
gang problem in the country."
Scully sighed. "So?"
"So, the DEA says 'liar, liar, pants on fire'," Mulder replied.
"No drugs?" she asked, beginning to be interested despite herself.
Mulder shook his head. "No worse than any other town of similar size
and location. L.A. gangs actually seem to be avoiding the area.
"So, G-woman, a serial killer – and possible headhunter suspect – is
apparently heading south to a small town which just saw its first two
decapitation-style killings *ever*, where another headhunter suspect
just moved and several others just visited *and* is believed to be a
gateway to Hell? Which said town is the center of centuries of
unexplainable occurrences which have radically increased in number
over the last four years?
"Call me crazy, Scully, but I think this is an X-File."
Scully shook her head. "Mulder you *are* crazy," she confirmed.
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
2100, Sunday (Local)
Mac parked the truck and hopped out. Immediately he was hit with the
'buzz'. As he approached the steps to the front porch, the door flew
open revealing Buffy, sword in hand.
She just stared at her lover for a moment. Then she raced to him and
leaped into his arms. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she
covered his mouth with her own. After several long seconds she came
up for air. Then she hit him.
Mac looked at her for a moment, then asked, "Miss me?"
"If you came back because you forgot something..." she warned.
Mac grabbed her and kissed her deeply. "I love you," he said.
Buffy gave him that silly grin she got whenever he made her knees go
weak. "I love you, too," she replied. "Bastard," she added.
The grin left his face. He took a deep breath, smelling her hair,
breathing in her scent. After allowing himself that one perfect
moment of peace with his beloved, he stepped back.
"I needn't have bothered leaving to look for him," he explained.
"What do you mean, honey?" Buffy asked.
"Polovsky. He's coming here."
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
1630 Rabello Dr
2300, Sunday (Local)
Mac wanted Jager to grab a bag and move into Buffy's old room. He
briefly considered bringing Joyce over to the 'Keep' with Buffy and
him, but decided in the end that it was better if she wasn't there.
Maybe Polovsky wouldn't think to look for anyone in Mac's life, but it
wasn't much of a hope.
'Hope is not a viable coarse of action,' Finn's memory reminded him.
Best to just keep his distance and put protection on Buffy's mother.
Putting protection on Buffy, however, was something else again.
"Hell, no!" she announced. "If you think for one minute I'm gonna play
the 'little woman' and hide here – sorry, Mom, no offense – Mackenzie
O'Byrne, you've got another think coming!"
Mac sighed. "I don't want you to hide, honey. I want you to stay here.
Watch out for your mother-"
"And, incidentally, stay out of the line of fire?" Buffy interrupted
him. "Mac, that's sweet, really. No."
Joyce listened to the by-play, torn between amusement and fear. Buffy
turned to her.
"Listen, Mom. I want you to take a vacation. Go visit your sister,
'kay?"
Before Joyce could respond, Mac jumped in. "Excellent idea! Hunter,
help her pack," he ordered.
Joyce decided it was time to put her foot down. "Just a damn minute!
I'm not going to be driven away while my daughter stays to deal with
some psycho-"
"*Buffy*, won't be dealing with him. *I* will," Mac stated flatly.
"Listen, Joyce. I just want to cover my bases. This bastard likes to
hurt women and he's not above taking hostages. Buffy can take care of
herself. Hunter – *Thomas*," he amended, "knows what to do if he trips
over this guy-"
"Yeah," affirmed Jager. "*Run*."
"Precisely," Mac nodded. "You, Joyce, are a civilian. He *might* try
for Buffy. *Might*. But if he finds out about *her* – which, by the
way, is what I'd like to avoid," Buffy glared in response. "If he
finds out about her, he'll find you. That puts Buffy at risk. *That*
reduces my ability to deal with him."
"I'm staying," Joyce said again. "Period."
Mac and Jager traded a look. '*Women*!' they communicated silently.
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0230, Monday (Local)
Mac groaned as he crawled into bed. Buffy sat there with her legs drawn
up, wearing her favorite one of his shirts, looking at him. In
response to his tired sounds, she smiled and turned out the light.
Slipping under the covers, she molded herself to his body and laid her
head on his cheSt.
"Mac?" she said.
"Yeah, honey?"
"I want you to promise me something," she pleaded. Then her voice grew
firm. "Don't ever, *ever* do that again."
"Do what, Buffy?"
"Try to send me away. Don't do it again. We're a team. I know we have
to deal with other immortals on our own – I don't like it, but, okay,
I can accept it. *But*, we're a team. When Thomas walked in and you
told me that you wanted to go it on your own, I died inside.
"Don't ever do that to me again," she begged.
Mac considered that. Polovsky was *his* problem. Wasn't he? Of course,
Buffy could always say that the legions of the undead that he helped
her fight were *her* problem, couldn't she? What would he do if she
did? Accept it?
Of course not! But... Ah, to hell with it! He was born well before the
age of 'political correctness' – and *he* was the man. Buffy's
abilities – which he maintained great respect for – weren't the
issue.
Then...what *was* the issue? He'd fallen in love with a warrior. More
than that – with the only woman he'd ever met that really *fit*. Yes,
she needed his protection – but not from evil. Not even from other
immortals.
She needed her man to protect her heart.
Beyond that, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
Together, they did make one hell of a team. She knew he needed to
fight this fight. She'd let him do it and never complain – unless he
cut her out. That would hurt her in ways she might not be able to
forgive.
"Buffy?"
"Yeah, honey?"
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
Buffy sat bolt upright in bed and turned on the light, then turned to
stare at him. "What?!"
Mac looked at her. "I asked if you would marry me."
Buffy couldn't believe it. "Are you kidding me? Four hours ago you were
trying to get rid of me!" she exclaimed.
"I was wrong. You're right. We're a team. You're also the only woman
I've ever loved. More, the only woman I've ever met that I could
love." Mac sat up and turned to face her. "I know this isn't the way
I should be doing this. There should be flowers and wine and a band
playing in the corner of some romantic restaurant.
"I should be on my knees with a really suave speech. I always figured
if I did meet a woman and wanted to marry her, I'd want all the crap
about honor and obedience... But I don't. We're a team. I love you. I
want to marry you," he finished.
Buffy just stared at him for a long moment. "Mac, we've been together
like, what, six weeks? And you want to get married?"
"Yes, I do. To you." Mac stared at her for a long moment. "Buffy, will
you marry me?" he asked.
Looking him in the eye, she said, "Yes."
-----------------------------------------
Part 3
Scene 1
L.A., Ca.
Los Angeles International Airport 0630, Monday (Local)
Special Agents Mulder and Scully practically stumbled off the plane and
down the causeway. In short order they'd picked up a car, grabbed
some coffee and started down I-5 to Sunnydale.
"So what's the plan, Mulder?" asked Scully. "Knock on O'Byrne's door
and ask 'So, chop off anyone's head lately?'"
Mulder grinned at his partner. "That'd be one approach." Scully shook
her head. He continued, "How about we knock on his door and conduct a
'routine inquiry' about certain suspicious goings-on in the area? "
"How about if we check in with the Sunnydale P.D.?" she countered.
"No, no, no," the Chief of the Sunnydale P.D. said as he shook his
head. "You've got it all wrong, Agents. What we've got here in
Sunnydale is a bad bleed-over from the gang violence in L.A. Big
problems with gang-bangers high on PCP."
"Despite the fact that the DEA says that this 'drug problem' of yours
doesn't exist?" scoffed Scully. "Despite the fact that gang violence
is on the decline for the third straight year in L.A.?"
As the Chief continued shaking his head, Mulder jumped in. "What about
vampires, Chief?"
Scully's head whipped around so fast that Mulder swore he heard a
snapping sound. 'Course, it might have been the Chief's jaw thumping
on his desk.
"Vampires?" repeated the Chief. "Agent Mulder," he laughed, "this is
California – not Transylvania! Vampires – go ahead, pull the other
one."
"Thank you for your help, Sir," interjected Scully. "We'll be in
touch." With that, she grabbed Mulder's arm and tugged him out of the
office. And out of the building. Once outside, she turned on her
partner.
"Vampires?!"
With the two FBI agents out of his office, the Chief began to sweat
profusely. After several minutes, he regained control of himself long
enough to reach for the phone.
"Mr. Mayor? It's the Chief," he began. "We may have a problem..."
"Vampires, Mulder? You said 'serial killer'. You said 'cop killer'. You
even said 'blue lightning, decapitations and swords'. You did *not*
say 'vampires'!" she said angrily. "If I catch you with another
stake-"
"I could've *sworn* I mentioned the vampires, Scully," he cut her off
with a grin. "Let's go visit a lady named Buffy,"
"'Buffy'? Who the hell is 'Buffy', Mulder?" Scully demanded.
"Buffy Summers. In several of the reports I received from those mystics
I mentioned, her name came up," he explained.
Scully shook her head.
A quick check in the phone book revealed that Joyce and Buffy Summers
resided at 1630 Rabello Dr. Over Scully's strenuous objections, the
two agents headed there next.
Unfortunately, no one seemed to be home when they got there. Scully
couldn't help looking pleased at Mulder's chagrined expression when
no one answered the door. Even after he rang the bell for a solid
minute.
"Mulder, they're probably at work. It's ten in the morning," she
pointed out.
"Good point, Scully. Let's try O'Byrne."
"Assuming he's not also at work, Mulder, seeing as how it's now,"
Scully glanced at her watch, "ten- oh-two a.m., what does he have to
do with vampires?" she asked in a saccharine-laced voice.
Mulder sighed. "This is plan 'B', Scully. Since we can't investigate
the vampires right now, we may as well investigate a headhunter."
Scully groaned.
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1035, Monday (Local)
Buffy sat up and yawned, stretching her arms high over her head.
Feeling Mac's hand stroke her back, she turned and smiled down at her
fiance.
"Purr," she said.
Mac chuckled. "Skipping class today?" he asked and nodded toward the
clock. Her first class had been over for more than half an hour. She
briefly looked at the clock and turned back to him.
"Are you kidding? I've got a rich fiance. Phooey on class," she said
with a smile. Mac chuckled again.
"Well, since your cutting class anyway, how about we get up and go for
a ride?" he suggested.
Buffy frowned. "Look for Polovsky?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "An engagement ring."
Buffy laid back down, straddling him. "So this was like a *serious*
proposal?"
"Yeah. And I'm hoping it was a serious answer," Mac suggested
pointedly.
Buffy kissed him softly. "It was, sweetie. It was *definitely* a
serious answer." She hopped up and started dragging on his arm,
pulling him out of bed. "C'mon, lover. I want a really *big* diamond on
my finger when I tell Mom."
"Women and shiny rocks," muttered Mac.
The doorbell rang before Buffy could reply to that. "You get the door,"
she ordered. "I need time to get pretty."
"No, you don't," disagreed Mac. That earned him another kiss before she
darted into their bathroom.
Mac pulled on a pair of pants and a T-shirt before padding down the
stairs. 'This better not be another damned salesman,' he grumbled
silently. Whoever it was had apparently fallen asleep leaning on the
buzzer. Reaching the door, the immortal jerked it open, one hand
hovering near the breakbox that held a shotgun – the veteran warrior
tended to be cautious almost to the point of paranoia. Of course, he
still had his head, didn't he?
Two people, a man and a woman, who were obviously feds – 'Jesus! Do
they *issue* those suits?' – were waiting on the porch. Putting on
his most neutral expression, he asked, "May I help you?"
"Mr. Mackenzie O'Byrne? We're Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI," said the
male as they produced their IDs. "We'd like to ask you a few
questions."
"May we come inside, sir?" asked the woman.
Mac stepped out on the porch and pulled the door shut. "No," he
replied.
There was a space of several seconds while each waited for the other to
speak.
"May we ask why not?" asked Scully.
"Sure," answered Mac.
Several more seconds of silence followed. Scully gritted her teeth in
annoyance. "Why can't we step inside, Mr. O'Byrne?"
Mac gave it another long moment before he deigned to answer, "I said
you could ask, ma'am. I didn't say I'd answer."
Scully took a threatening step forward. "Look-"
She got no farther than that. Mac stepped into her space. As she tried
to back away, he reached out and touched her shoulder. Somehow, he
spun her around and into Mulder, causing both of them to stumble into
the porch rail. They looked up and stared down the barrel of Scully's
pistol.
In O'Byrne's hand.
Pressing the tip of the barrel against her heart, Mac reached over and
slid Mulder's pistol out of the holster. With their guns in either of
his hands, Mac cocked his head to the side.
"I'm going to let this one time be a warning, ma'am. Don't push me
again," he said in a flat, dead voice. He reversed the pistols in his
hands and offered them back to the feds. "Now, what do you want?"
Buffy lingered in the shower for a few minutes. When Mac didn't come
back and join her, she quickly finished, jumped out, brushed her
teeth and got dressed.
Slipping on a pair of jeans and a tank top, she headed downstairs.
Sniffing the air, Buffy determined that Mac hadn't turned the coffee
on yet. Odd.
Who the hell was at the door?
She walked up to the door and opened it. Stepping outside, she found
Mac and two people in ugly clothes that looked like every stereotype
of a cop she'd ever seen, read of or heard about.
"Honey?" she asked. "What's up?"
"Feds," answered Mac cheerfully. "*Un*civil servants."
The redheaded fed didn't care for the sound of that. 'Coarse, neither
did Buffy. Whenever Mac got that cheerful tone in his voice, he was
about to paste somebody. He'd had that same lilt when he'd tortured
Spike.
She quickly stepped over to him and wrapped an arm around his waist.
With a gentle squeeze, she communicated to him, 'Watch your temper,
sweetie.' He glanced at her and let the corner of his mouth curl in a
fractional smile. Mac sighed and wrapped his arm over her shoulder.
Scully and Mulder picked up quickly that the young woman had a calming
effect on O'Byrne. Scully gave the woman her full attention.
"Hello. I'm Special Agent Dana Scully. This is my partner, Agent
Mulder-"
Buffy interrupted her. "Isn't he 'special', too?" she asked, causing
O'Byrne to chuckle.
Scully reddened. "And you are..."
"Buffy."
Mulder and Scully exchanged a look. How many 'Buffys' could there be?
"Buffy *Summers*?" asked Mulder.
"Yeah...for now anyway. Why?" she asked.
"What do you mean 'for now'?" queried Scully.
"We're engaged. So 'Summers' *for now*. What do you guys want, anyway?"
Buffy was beginning to get annoyed with these two. Whatever they
wanted couldn't be good. Besides, she had a ring to shop for.
"Well, we'd like to ask Mr. O'Byrne, here, about a couple of recent
murders. Death by decapitation. Sound familiar?" Mulder asked. Buffy
gave Mac a quick glance.
Mackenzie still hadn't changed expression. "I read about it in the
paper, Mr. Mulder. The first one happened almost a week before I
moved here," he pointed out.
"Do the names Russell Nash and Duncan Macleod ring any bells, sir?"
asked Scully, keeping an eye on Buffy. O'Byrne might as well be
carved from stone – when the man had attacked and disarmed them he'd
never changed expression. Even now he stood there stoically. The girl,
on the other hand, obviously had *much* less experience hiding her
emotions.
Buffy Summers knew those names.
"Again, ma'am," Mac answered. "I never said anything about answering
your questions. We're done." With that, Mac turned Buffy around and
walked her to the door.
"I suppose you don't want to talk about the vampires, either, then?"
Mulder called out to the retreating couple and causing Scully to
wince. O'Byrne and the girl froze, then slowly turned around.
Buffy began to softly lecture him in response. "I don't know what it is
you know, Agent Mulder – or what it is that you *think* you know –
but let me give you some friendly advice-- don't dig in Sunnydale.
For anything." She turned and walked back to Mac's side.
Together, and without another word, the couple disappeared into the
house, leaving the agents behind. Scully and Mulder exchanged a long
look.
"Scully," asked Mulder. "Do you believe this is a coincidence?"
"You mean our headhunter suspect living with your vampire girl?" Scully
shook her head. "Hell of a coincidence."
"You saw their reaction to my question about vampires. What did you
think of that?" Mulder asked.
Scully thought about their previous 'vampire' cases. "All right,
Mulder. They know something. And," she reluctantly conceded, "so do
the cops. I just don't understand the connection between the vampires
and the headhunter cases."
"Well, legend says that one way to kill a vampire is by beheading it,"
her partner suggested.
"Mulder, what are you saying? That the headhunter case is about killing
vampires?" she scoffed. "Then how do you explain the serial killer in
San Francisco? And the murdered cop in L.A.?"
"I'm beginning to think that a vampire may be behind that," Mulder
replied. Seeing his partner open her mouth to object, he hastily
amended, "Granted, the victims in those cases were knifed. Maybe it's
a really *gruesome* vampire."
Scully just shook her head and went back to the car.
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1100, Monday (Local)
Buffy waited patiently while Mac showered. She watched on the security
monitor in Mac's office as the two feds got in their car and parked
across the street. They obviously weren't going away anytime soon.
Damn it!
Eventually, Mac came back downstairs and walked into the office. "They
still here?" he asked her.
Buffy nodded and pointed at the monitor. "Parked across the street.
What do we do?"
Mac walked over to his desk and sat down. Picking up the phone, he
dialed a Seattle number. When the other end was picked up, he hit the
speaker button and said, "Joe, Mac. How're you doing?"
"*Hey, Mac! How are things in Sunnydale?*" asked Joe Dawson.
"Great, great. Listen, Joe, I may have a problem. Do you guys have any
connections in the FBI?" queried the immortal.
"*Yeah, I've got an old friend there. He's an Assistant Director*."
"Good. A pair of agents named Fox Mulder and Dana Scully just showed up
here. They're asking questions about Duncan and Connor – only, in
Connor's case, they used the name Nash," Mac explained.
"*Oh, shit!*" exclaimed the Watcher.
"Yeah, I know – but it gets better. They were looking for Buffy, too,"
agreed Mac.
"*Looking for Buffy? They knew where to find her?*" worried Dawson.
"No, I don't think they expected to find her here. They wanted to ask
her about vampires."
"*I don't believe it! What the hell is going on down there?*"
"I don't know, Joe. Hunter tell you about Polovsky?" Mac asked.
"*Yeah, he called last night. Two feds is something you sure don't need
right now. I'll call my friend and find out what I can.*"
"Thanks, Joe. Do it quick will you? I need intel – and I need it fast."
"*I'll do it right now. You two take care*," Dawson instructed. The
Watcher hung up the phone.
In Seattle, Dawson dug out his address book and looked up the number of
his old friend from Viet Nam. He quickly punched a number into his
phone. It rang only twice before being picked up.
"*Director Skinner's office. How may I help you?*" asked a woman on the
other end of the line.
"My name's Joe Dawson. I need to speak to Walter Skinner – it's
urgent," he informed her.
In his office at the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington, D.C., A.D.
Walter Skinner was reviewing a budgeting report when his secretary
buzzed him. "Yes?" he asked.
"*Sir, there's a Joe Dawson on the phone for you. He says it's
urgent,*" she informed him.
'Joe Dawson?' wondered Skinner. 'What could he want?' Skinner and
Dawson had known each other since their time in Viet Nam. They still
saw each other occasionally, whenever Joe happened to visit D.C.
And Joe had managed to quietly slip him useful information from time to
time over the years. Joe apparently had some amazing sources of
information. Skinner had learned to never ask how he came by that
info. When Joe offered something, he just took it and was grateful for
it.
Wondering what Joe had for him this time, he instructed his secretary,
"Put him through." Skinner picked up the phone. "Joe? What's up?"
"*Walter, I hate to bother you, but I need some information – and I
need it fast. Can you find out about a couple of agents named Fox
Mulder and Dana Scully?*"
Skinner's eyes widened. "Why do you want to know about Scully and
Mulder, Joe?" he demanded. Mulder had told him about a serial killer
in San Francisco that he'd believed was headed to L.A. and requested
permission to drop everything to head out there. Knowing that he
probably wasn't going to get any more information from the agent at
that time, Skinner had approved the requeSt.
But Joe Dawson lived in Seattle. What in hell was Mulder up to now?
"*I can't really get into that, Walter. I just need to know what you
can tell me about them,*" answered his old friend.
"Sorry, Joe. They're two of my best agents. I'm not going to tell you
anything without a good reason." A *damn* good reason.
"*Walter... I've helped you whenever I could. It's time for some
payback, buddy,*" demanded Dawson.
"You know me better than that, *buddy*," Skinner answered with
hostility in his voice. The line was silent for a long beat.
Dawson considered what to tell the FBI man. Finally, he sighed.
"*Walter... These two agents of yours are about to step into a
shitstorm. You wouldn't believe me if I *did* tell you,*" he demurred.
Considering what the nature of Mulder and Scully's work was, Sinner
doubted that. "Try me," he demanded.
"*Your two fair-haired children are in Sunnydale, California
investigating vampires.*" Dawson paused to let that sink in, then
repeated, "Vampires, *Walter. As in blood-sucking demons from Hell.
Believe me when I say that they're in over their heads, old friend.
Now, what can you tell me?*"
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
1230, Monday (Local)
Scully and Mulder sat in their rental car across the street from
O'Byrne's residence discussing their observations. Scully was
remarking on the remote location of the subjects' house when Mulder's
cell phone rang.
"Mulder," he answered.
"*Mulder, where are you and what – *exactly* – are you doing?*"
demanded the voice of A.D. Skinner.
"Investigating the serial killer, sir," answered Mulder. Scully gave
him a disbelieving look. "We're tracking a possible connection in a
suburb called 'Sunnydale.'"
"*So your investigation has nothing to do with vampires?*" demanded
Skinner.
Mulder tensed up. *What the hell?!* "Vampires, sir?" he echoed.
Scully's eyes grew wide.
"*I just got a call from an old...source. A very *reliable* old source.
He tells me that not only are you investigating *vampires*, Mulder,
but that your in way over your head on this one. I can't help
remembering the *last* time you investigated vampires,*" Skinner
finished accusingly.
Mulder flushed. He'd almost been arrested for murder when he staked a
boy he'd claimed was a vampire a couple of years before.
"This case has a lot of peculiar angles, sir," he answered. "But, yes,
there may be a vampiric element to it. Or, at least, some of the
principals might think so," the agent amended.
Inside the house, the phone rang. Buffy snatched it up. "Hello?" she
answered.
"*Buffy, it's Joe. Mac still there?*" asked the Watcher.
"Yeah, Joe. Just a sec. Honey!" she called. Mac appeared from the
kitchen with a couple cups of coffee. He handed her one and took the
phone.
"Talk to me," he instructed.
"*Mac, these two FBI agents are trouble. They're assigned to something
called the 'X-Files'*" explained Dawson. "*Apparently, they
investigate inexplicable phenomena – which includes the paranormal.
This guy Mulder has investigated vampires in the past.*"
"*Mierde*!" exclaimed Mac.
"*It gets worse, Mac. Mulder and Scully are officially out there to
investigate a serial killer that they believe is moving south from
San Francisco. You thinking what I'm thinking?*"
"Polovsky," Mac said flatly. "Shit!"
"*Lay low, my friend,*" advised the Watcher.
Mulder closed the cell phone. His conversation with Skinner hadn't been
entirely pleasant. He told Scully what the A.D. had had to say.
"Mulder, follow this back," she said. "Who could have told Skinner?"
"I don't know. O'Byrne must have some influential friends if-" Mulder
broke off. "Speak of the devil."
Across the street, O'Byrne and Summers were walking out to the
Pathfinder parked in the driveway. The two subjects got in and drove
off toward the freeway. The agents followed. Ninety minutes later, the
two cars were parked at an expensive looking jewelry store in L.A.. The
subjects hopped out and walked over to where Scully and Mulder were
parked. Mac beckoned them out of their car.
"Listen, you two. I know that you're both too damn stupid to go away,
so here's the deal. Buffy and I have some shopping to do. Then we're
taking her mother out to dinner. Leave us alone, follow us, flap your
arms and fly – I don't care.
"*But*," he continued, "if you really want to know about vampires,
you'll go find a motel and get some sleep. Come out to our place
around nine." O'Byrne turned on his heel and walked back to the girl.
With her hand on his arm, they walked into the store.
The two agents traded a look.
"What do think changed his mind?" asked Mulder.
"I'm guessing she did." Scully turned to her partner. "Mulder, if we
start chasing after vampires, who's going to look for the serial
killer?" she demanded. "I'm telling you, Scully. Somehow it's all
connected. And those two are right in the middle of it," he answered
with certainty.
Scully shook her head. "Mulder, you have no proof of that. Nothing, in
fact beyond a wild coincidence and some unfounded guesses," she
complained.
"The longest journey starts with the first step, Scully," Mulder
pontificated. Scully groaned.
Almost an hour later, the two subjects re-emerged from the jewelry
store. The girl was sporting a good-size diamond on her left hand.
Scully guessed that it must have cost a small fortune.
'No,' she decided. 'A *large* fortune.'
From the jeweler, O'Byrne and Summers went to a mall, where they spent
two hours wandering around. Summers bought a few clothes and led the
man into a Victoria's Secret. She bought a bag full of things there,
and the two of them left the mall. The next stop was a gun store. A
half-hour later, they carried a crate of ammunition out to the truck.
The two car convoy finally headed back to Sunnydale, getting to the
house on Creek St a little after five o'clock. The residents carried
their purchases inside while Mulder and Scully waited in their car,
once again parked across from the house. At six-thirty, O'Byrne and
Summers reappeared, got back in the truck and drove downtown
Joyce waited at Mulligan's Restaurant for her daughter and Mac to show.
Buffy had called at one and insisted that the three of them go out to
dinner. Joyce had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach for the
rest of the day.
When Buffy and Mac walked into the restaurant a little before seven,
Joyce knew her suspicions had been sound. Buffy had an absolutely
huge engagement ring on her finger. It had taken Mackenzie O'Byrne
all of six weeks to steal Buffy away.
'God, it's just too soon!' she wailed silently. Curiously, it wasn't
the six weeks that bothered Joyce – she herself believed that Buffy
and Mac belonged together. Those two fit like a hand in a glove and
would probably be together long after Joyce had passed on.
It was just too soon for Joyce. Her baby had grown up and found her own
man and her own life. Sometimes Joyce realized that she actually saw
just as much of Buffy now as she ever had – it was a rare day Buffy
didn't at least stop by – but that didn't change the fact that her
little girl was *gone*.
Struggling to put a smile on her face, Joyce stood up and embraced her
daughter.
------------------------------------------
Part 4
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2115, Monday (Local)
Mac parked the truck and turned off the ignition before turning to look
at his fiancé. Buffy had tears in her eyes. "What's wrong,
sweetie?" he asked.
"Oh, Mom," she answered. "She's trying hard, but..."
"Right. Trying hard. But she's so upset that it took the two of you all
of what? Five minutes to start planning the wedding?" he teased.
Buffy grinned. "Yeah, well... It's a female thing, honey," she teased
him back. Mac leaned over and kissed her.
"Ready to go to work?" he asked. Buffy nodded. "Go ahead and change.
I'll go collect our tag-alongs."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Mac?" she asked. "This smells like
trouble to me."
"A *good* idea? No," Mac replied. "But I can think of only a limited
number of ways to stop them. I think you'd like those options less."
Buffy shuddered at his implication. Mac seldom let the blackness
within him show through, but she knew it was always there. "Besides,"
he continued, "if Joe's friend is right, maybe they can be of some
use."
"And what if they find out about us? About the Game?" she persisted. If
the two feds already knew about vampires, fine. If they found out
about immortals, that was something else again. Buffy and her friends
understood all too well what the governments of the world would likely
do if immortals were discovered.
"I'll deal with that when – *if* – the time comes," Mac answered. No,
not *Mac*, Buffy decided. *Reaper*. She suddenly had another reason
to hope the feds didn't discover their secret.
If he decided they were a threat, Mac would kill them without blinking
an eye. *Reaper* had no qualms whatsoever about killing an enemy.
He'd been doing that for forty years.
The two immortals got out of the truck. The Slayer went into the house
to get ready for 'work' while Mac went over to collect the two feds.
As O'Byrne approached the car, Mulder rolled down the window. "I told
you we'd be back around nine," the immortal chastised the agents. "Of
course, I figured you were stupid, too. I guess you'd better come on
in," he finished. O'Byrne turned his back on the agents and went back
up his driveway toward the front door.
Mulder gave him a hostile look as he retreated. While he and Scully had
spent the day following the young couple, his friends had tried to
check deeper into O'Byrne's past. The Lone Gunmen had found little.
Mackenzie O'Byrne was obviously at least ten years older than the he
appeared to be – he'd done *something* classified for the Reagan
administration back in the early and mid- eighties.
Something *highly* classified. Most of the government's information on
the man was incredibly well restricted. Not that there was much of
it. What there was painted the picture of a highly skilled – and very
valuable – government agent.
Still – or maybe as a result – it irked Mulder to no end that this
*kid* was calling him stupid. O'Byrne looked to be all of twenty-
five. Maybe younger. His fiancé was twenty – barely twenty at
that. A pair of children had spent the day running all over L.A.,
jerking his chain just for the hell of it. Mulder's annoyance
continued to mount until he recalled what he'd seen in O'Byrne's eyes
earlier that day. The girl's eyes as well, to a slightly lesser extent.
Their *eyes* certainly weren't young. Mulder and Scully got out of the
car and followed O'Byrne.
Buffy took a quick shower and pulled on some comfortable clothes. When
she returned downstairs she found the two feds sitting on a couch in
the living room. Mac had given them each a soda.
"Hi, there!" she called out.
"Hello, Ms. Summers," Scully greeted her. Her partner just nodded.
Buffy grimaced. "Buffy, please. 'Ms. Summers' makes me feel old.
Besides," she grinned, "Mac *hates* the term 'Ms.'"
"Okay, Buffy," answered Mulder. "So when are you and your boyfriend-"
"Fiancé," Buffy corrected him.
"-*Fiancé*," echoed Mulder without breaking stride, "going to
tell us about the vampires?"
"Well, Fox – can I call you Fox? – we figured it would be easier to
*show* you than to try and explain."
Mulder looked a little nonplussed at Buffy's presumption. Scully hid a
grin – Mulder *hated* to be called 'Fox'.
"Actually, Buffy, Mulder doesn't like being called that," Scully
explained.
"Well," announced Mac as he walked back into the living room with a
coffee tray, "Buffy and I don't really like being followed around,
either." He set the tray down and fixed a cup which he handed to
Buffy. He held the pot up and raised an eyebrow at the two agents in
silent question.
"Yes, please," Scully answered him. "Cream, no sugar."
"Black," answered Mulder. The four of them were quiet as Mac fixed the
coffee and passed out the cups. Buffy left for a minute, returning
with a thermos. Mac poured the rest of the coffee in, added cream and
sugar, closed it up and vigorously shook the container.
Buffy left again, returning this time with a bag. Mac handed her the
thermos and left the room. Once he was gone, Buffy turned to their
unwelcome guests.
"Okay, guys, listen up. What we do is dangerous. If you're gonna come
with us, we need a few ground rules," she instructed. "One, do what
we tell you – don't argue, ever, because we're not playing games.
"Two, we may or may not see anything tonight. Things have been kind of
quiet lately. If nothing happens, that's a *good* thing.
"Three – and this is *really* important – don't piss us off. Especially
Mac. When we hunt, my honey really gets in the zone," she explained.
"Trust me on this. I've seen him in action. When *Reaper* comes
calling, you just get the hell out of his way. Or you get dead. Got
it?"
"Reaper?" asked Scully. Buffy frowned and cocked her head to the side.
"Yeah," she answered carefully. "Mac's...been around. He wasn't always
helping me do this. He had a life before he came here, you know."
"Here to the Hellmouth?" asked Mulder.
Buffy's eyes jumped wide open. "You know about that, huh? How much do
you know?"
"That you and your friends run around chopping the heads off of people
that you think are vampires and leave the bodies for the police to
find," Mulder guessed.
Buffy paled and turned to Mac as he walked back into the room, dressed
for work. The two immortals exchanged a long look.
"That's not quite the way it works, Mulder," responded Mac. "Why don't
you quit playing guessing games for now. We'll go see what we see –
then we'll talk." He looked at Buffy. She nodded.
The two immortals opened the bag and started pulling out weapons. As
the subjects of their investigation armed themselves, Mulder and
Scully grew progressively more nervous. Mac and Buffy both wore loose
pants, boots and turtle necks – comfortable clothes allowing plenty of
movement. The clothes were dark and just stylish enough to let
someone mistake *why* they were dressed that way.
O'Byrne slipped into a shoulder rig that had a shotgun swinging freely
under his right arm – a well under legal-length shotgun. Both of them
slipped silenced .38s into skeleton holsters at the small of their
backs. Extra magazines went into cases hung on their belts. Buffy and
Mac slipped on long, loose-fitting coats. Then they each slipped a
half-dozen *very* sharp wooden stakes into pouches inside those
coats.
When finished, they looked like two stylishly-dressed young people out
for a night on the town – on the surface. To the two federal agents,
it was obvious from the way they'd handled their gear that Mac and
Buffy were, in fact, two well-armed and *very* dangerous hunters. Mac
turned to the two feds.
"Here's how this works," he instructed. "Buffy's got the lead. Period.
You two are here to observe – nothing more." As he spoke, a hard
glint came to his eyes. O'Byrne didn't look like a twenty-five year
old smart-ass any longer. Buffy looked almost as bad – just as
dangerous, but in a friendly sort of way.
One obvious killer. One friendly-looking killer. One *extremely*
hazardous combination. Scully suddenly had no doubts at all that
these two were capable of... 'Maybe,' she decided, 'a better question
would be-- what *aren't* they capable of?'
Mulder was debating how long he and Scully would survive if he tried to
stop them from doing whatever it was they planned to do. 'Maybe if I
had a SWAT team,' he thought. 'No, not SWAT. I need soldiers.
Commandos.' He studied the pair closely as they led he and Scully
outside. 'Yeah, commandos. Lots of them.'
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
Sunnydale Cemetery
2230, Monday (Local)
Mac had driven the four of them toward town. Once parked, they'd gotten
out of the truck and started strolling down the street. During the
drive, Mulder and Scully had each considered drawing down on the pair
in front. Both had decided against it. Neither of them was eager to mix
it up with the affianced couple.
Besides, they were both curious about what was going to happen next.
Once out of the Pathfinder, Scully noticed that Buffy wasn't wearing
her ring. Scully was sure she'd had it when they left the house.
"Buffy," she asked, "where's your ring?"
"Locked in the truck," the girl answered. Buffy grinned. "It's too
pretty to wear on patrol."
O'Byrne chuckled quietly. Buffy frowned at him, but even in the dim
light of a flickering street lamp, it was apparent to Scully that the
younger woman's eyes were still smiling.
"Why is that funny?" asked Mulder "I see her point – that rock would
attract every mugger for miles." Mac winked at him as Buffy tried to
stifle a giggle. Mulder wasn't sure which surprised him more.
"We actually got mugged once, Mulder," Buffy informed him. "I'd just as
soon avoid going through *that* again."
"The two of you are afraid of muggers?" asked Scully. Considering how
they were armed...
"Not *of*, Dana," corrected Buffy. "*For*."
Scully and Mulder thought about that. Finally Mulder asked, "What
happened to the guys who mugged you?"
Buffy threw a sharp look at her fiancé, who winced a little. But
she smiled as she explained, "Mac heard the bugler sound the charge.
The worst part was that we were on the way home. It took like, I
don't know, an hour, maybe? To get those guys to the hospital and sneak
off with no one seeing us."
Scully pondered that. The two of them had cared enough about street
punks to take them to the hospital – but they were out cutting other
peoples heads off? Something didn't make sense about that. As the
group neared a cemetery, she was trying to decide what was up with the
two of them when both Mac and Buffy suddenly stiffened and stopped in
their tracks.
Each reached under their coat and produced a sword.
'Where the hell did *those* come from?' Mulder wondered as he reached
for his gun.
O'Byrne's free hand lashed out and seized the agent's wrist. Their
suspect was focused on something across the street. Looking in that
direction, Scully saw a man dressed in a long coat standing on the
steps of a church. In a flash of insight, she wondered what the odds
were that the new arrival had a sword under his coat, too.
"Polovsky?" Buffy asked Mac.
"Take care of them, Buffy," said O'Byrne. Hiding his sword under his
coat, he strode quickly across the street to confront the man on the
church steps.
"Who the hell is Polovsky?" demanded Mulder.
"A god-damned butchering psychopath," Buffy gritted out venomously.
"And a dead man when Mac finds him."
Mulder and Scully exchanged an incredulous look. This was getting more
confusing by the second. Then an idea hit them both at the same time.
"This guy Polovsky been in San Francisco lately?" asked Mulder. Buffy
shot him a look. She chewed her lip nervously for a second, then
slowly nodded her head. "Mac thinks so," she answered. Across the
street, the two men were confronting one another. The man on the steps
suddenly leaped down at O'Byrne, who spun out of the way and cut his
attacker across the belly.
Mulder and Scully started to race across the street when Buffy pulled
out her .38 and pointed it at them. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't
let you interfere. Even if wasn't against the Rules, you'd just get
yourselves killed."
'Rules?' wondered Mulder.
Mac strolled easily across the street, taking in everything around him.
With every step, his situational awareness increased. With every
second, everything that made Mackenzie O'Byrne the good and decent
man that had won Buffy's love submerged a little farther from sight. By
the time he reached his target, Mac was gone.
In his place stood Reaper – veteran of countless wars and campaigns
dating back forty years. Years spent in the Legion, in Special
Forces, leading strike teams against the Drug Cartels in Latin
America... Years spent earning a reputation as the living
personification of Death himself.
"Your name wouldn't be Jan Polovsky, by any chance now, would it,"
Reaper asked in a cheerful voice. Hearing the deceptive friendliness
in his voice, anyone who knew the man asking the question would have
ducked for cover. The fool standing on the church steps didn't know
that. Getting closer, Mac saw that it wasn't Polovsky. Instead, it
was some immortal he'd never seen before. Damn.
"'Fraid not," he replied. "Name's Michael Mitchell. Who're you?"
"Reaper," O'Byrne answered. 'Shit! This really *is* Grand Central-
fucking-Station!' he cursed silently.
"Reaper, huh?" echoed Mitchell. "Cool name kid. You must be new to the
Game. Most of us don't go in for that kind of crap."
"Passing through?" asked O'Byrne.
"Mostly. But I've got time for you," answered Mitchell.
"Bad idea, Mr. Mitchell," said O'Byrne politely. "We've got company
across the street."
"So?"
"*So*, Mr. Mitchell, we should defer this. Our Game isn't for
spectators," Reaper reminded the newcomer.
"Yeah, but one of *them* is one of *us*. I'll deal with the others,"
taunted Mitchell as he drew his sword. Reaper stared at the man
'Fool,' raced though his head as Mitchell leaped at him.
Drawing his sword from beneath his coat, Reaper danced out of the other
immortal's path. A quick slash opened up Mitchell's belly, causing
him to gasp in pain. Reaper stepped back, rocked on his rear heel and
stepped forward again. He brought his sword up over his shoulder and
cut off Mitchell's left arm with a short stroke.
Mitchell fell to his knees and stared at the stump where his arm had
been a moment before. He was still staring at it, wondering why it
didn't hurt, when Reaper swung his Katana through Mitchell's neck.
Across the street, still half a block away, Scully, Mulder and Buffy
watched the battle between the immortals. When O'Byrne cut off the
strangers arm, Scully gasped.
When O'Byrne decapitated his opponent, her heart seized up.
Mulder stared, shocked speechless, as O'Byrne murdered the other man.
Buffy's heart had lurched when the stranger attacked Mac. Over the next
seven seconds, she forgot to breathe. Despite seeing Mac – *Reaper* –
in battle before, despite knowing how fantastic a warrior he was, she
was still terrified for his safety. In the time she'd known him he
hadn't battled another of their kind. The fight, short and brutal,
demonstrated to her why her man had so little fear of vampires and
demons.
The beasts were amateurs.
Buffy wondered if the two feds had noticed how close the other man's
blade had come to Mac's neck. She could've sworn it had grazed his
shoulder as the other immortal passed. The stranger was good, she
decided. Of course, the proof being in the pudding, Mac was better. He
still had his head.
Mulder started again to cross the street.
"Wait, Mulder. It's not over yet," she stopped him. Mulder threw her an
incredulous look.
"Not over?" he asked.
"Mulder!" gasped Scully. Mulder whipped his head back around. Though
neither of the agents could know it, Buffy was seeing this for the
first time as well. A mist rose out of the corpse and slithered over
to O'Byrne as blue lightning started slithering around the two
combatants.
"What the hell is *that*?" demanded Mulder.
"The Quickening," answered Buffy.
The lightning danced. It touched on a nearby car, cranking it up and
setting off the alarm before blowing out the headlights. Two nearby
street lamps flared incredibly bright and exploded. The dead
immortal's corpse floated into the air and began to spin horizontally.
Mac was the focus of it all. The power of the Quickening ripped a
tremendous scream from the victor as it battered him. Every sense was
overwhelmed as he was wracked by indescribable pain and pleasure.
Though lasting less than a minute, it seemed to tear at the immortal
for an eternity. Every thought, every experience, every *feeling*
Mitchell had ever had forced its way into Mac.
Finally, battered and breathless, Mac dropped to the ground. It was
over.
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
3245 Grove street
2310, Monday (Local)
Wracked by the Quickening, Mac huddled on the ground beside Mitchell's
lifeless remains. Feeling an approaching immortal, he struggled to
his feet and tried to bring up his sword.
"Mac!" called Buffy.
'Beloved,' answered his mind. Mac couldn't verbalize a response. It had
been the biggest Quickening he'd experienced in twenty years.
Mitchell hadn't been a novice. Stupid, yes, but no newbie. "Buffy,"
he finally croaked.
Then his love was by his side, trying to help him up. He shook his head
at her. "We need to get gone – *now*," he ordered.
"What the hell was *that*?" demanded Mulder.
Buffy took a deep breath. "Mulder, grab the dead guy. Dana, help me
with Mac." Seeing the two feds stand there with stricken looks, she
ordered "*Now*, damn it!"
The two agents started. Scully moved to her side as Mulder examined
their surroundings. "Buffy," said Scully, "we need to get the police-
"
Buffy whirled on her. "Do what the hell I tell you, and do it right now
or so help me I'll kill you myself," she spat. Mac finally found his
feet. He quickly centered himself.
"Scully, Mulder, you two have a choice," Mac informed them. "Spend the
rest of your lives wondering what just happened – or do what you're
told. Choose." He turned to Buffy. "Honey, run back, get the truck.
We'll meet you halfway."
Buffy looked at him for a second, then darted forward and kissed him.
Turning on her heel, she raced off. Mac strode over to Mitchell.
Picking up his opponent's sword he handed it to Scully. He retrieved
his own sword and slipped it back under his coat. Then he bent over,
snatched up the head and tossed it to Mulder, who reflexively caught
it and grimaced in distaste. Finally, O'Byrne heaved the body over
his shoulder and set off after Buffy.
Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Then they turned and followed
O'Byrne.
In less than five minutes, Buffy pulled up in the truck. Mac heaved the
corpse off his shoulder and onto a plastic sheet in the back of the
truck. He took the head from Mulder and the sword from Scully and
tossed them in the back as well. Then he slammed the hatch shut, turned
to the agents long enough to say, "Get in," and climbed into the
passenger seat.
"Where to?" asked Buffy.
"Head up Paladin and take us into the desert, sweetheart. We need to
unload that dumb bastard in back."
Over the next two hours, Mulder and Scully watched as O'Byrne buried
the corpse, sprinkling some kind of powder over the body. A shift in
the wind brought tears to their eyes – the powder was some kind of
tear gas. "To keep the animals from digging him up," O'Byrne commented
to them when he saw the question on the faces of the two agents. When
he finished, Buffy drove them back to the 'Keep' – which apparently,
was what they called their house.
Once there, they all trooped inside. Mac slipped off his coat and
shoulder rig, revealing a long tear along the left side of the shirt.
As O'Byrne picked up a phone and punched in a number, Scully picked
up the coat and found an identical injury. Both the coat and O'Byrne's
shirt were spotted with drying blood.
"Either of you two speak French?" asked O'Byrne. Seeing them shake
their heads, he started softly speaking in French to whoever was on
the other end of the line.
"*Hunter? It's Reaper. I just ran into an immortal named Michael
Mitchell.*
"*No. He's dead. Find out what you can on him, will you? I want to
check what I got through his Quickening against your files.*
"*Thanks, Brother. By the way, we've got a new wrinkle. Call Joe and
tell him the feds saw it all.*
"*He'll explain it. Thanks, brother.*" Mac set the phone down in its
cradle and sat in a comfortable- looking chair. Buffy walked in and
handed him a cup of coffee. She perched on the arm of the chair and
stroked his hair as he slipped an arm around her waiSt.
'Dear god,' she thought. 'I almost lost him tonight.'
"We really want an explanation now, *Reaper*," announced Mulder.
Mac frowned at Buffy. "It slipped out," she apologized. After a moment,
he shrugged and focused on the feds.
"I've heard some interesting things about the two of you," Mac began.
The two agents exchanged a look.
"From who?" demanded Mulder.
"Later," Mac demurred. "Right now here's the thing. One of the things I
heard is that you make your living exposing secrets. Right now,
that's not a very good thing for me to know."
The threat in his voice was obvious. O'Byrne was deciding whether or
not to kill them. Both agents silently evaluated their chances of
drawing down on the man before he could carry out that threat. They
were both armed and several feet away from the man. He was seated with
a cup of coffee in one hand and his fiancé more or less in his
way. Neither O'Byrne nor Summers were armed at the moment. And he'd
been wounded. So they considered the odds.
Neither one wanted to try them. O'Byrne, sitting there comfortably,
casually stroking the young woman's hip, was undoubtedly the single
most dangerous man either of them had ever laid eyes on. It was
revealed in the way he moved, the way he walked. Even in the way he
sat, seemingly – deceptively – relaxed.
Most of all, it was in his eyes.
Mulder was wondering if he was an alien. It would explain the light
show.
Scully was deciding that the *second* most dangerous person she'd ever
met was sitting on the arm of O'Byrne's chair. It was a close second
at that. The two of them together?
Forget it.
"So, the question, then," continued O'Byrne, "is what the hell do I do
about you?"
"You guys want some coffee?" Buffy asked. The incongruity of her
question relaxed the tension. Mulder, the trained psychologist, was a
half-second behind Scully in realizing she'd done that deliberately.
"Yes, please," answered Scully. "Thank you."
"Coffee sounds good," agreed Mulder.
Buffy jumped up. "Don't kill anyone," she instructed Mac. He looked up
at her. Buffy winked, bent over and kissed his forehead, then walked
to the kitchen.
Mac and the agents stared at one another. In a few minutes, Buffy came
back in with the coffee tray and served. That done, she went back and
perched herself on the arm of Mac's chair again. His arm returned to
its place around her waist as hers returned to its place around his
shoulders.
Earlier, when seeing them together, Scully had mused 'young love'. Now
she decided it was much deeper, much stronger than that. The man that
had attacked O'Byrne had died easy. If he'd killed O'Byrne...
"I think you're gonna have to tell them, honey," Buffy said.
"Easier to-" Mac started.
"They're not in the Game, Mac," she cut him off. "They're not vampires.
Honey, they aren't *evil*, and you know it." O'Byrne considered that
for a long moment. Buffy's opinion obviously carried tremendous wait
with the man. Mulder wondered if anyone else's did. He had strong
doubts. Still, O'Byrne needed a push.
"Convince me, Mr. O'Byrne, and we'll keep your secret," Mulder offered.
"Your life on that, Mulder? And yours, Miss Scully?" asked Mac. "*Both*
your lives? Because that's what *we're* risking."
"You'd better be pretty damn convincing," stated Scully. Still, she
knew she was mostly posturing. If O'Byrne decided not to trust them,
he *would* kill them both. Not necessarily for his own sake.
He'd do it to protect Buffy.
"All right, then," Mac began. "We're immortal."
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0015, Tuesday (Local)
'Immortal?!' Mulder shouted silently. 'Hot damn!'
"Immortal?" Scully echoed his thought. "Define immortal."
"We don't age. Barring defeat in battle, there's no telling how many
hundreds – thousands – of years we'll survive," elaborated Mac.
"'Defeat in battle'? Like tonight at the church?" Mulder queried.
"Like tonight at the church, yes. What you saw was the Quickening. When
I took that fool's head, I took all his knowledge and power as well,"
Mac further explained.
"You mean... You don't mean you took his *soul*, do you?" demanded
Scully.
"I don't know. In a way, I suppose. Don't feel sorry for him, ma'am.
Judging from the power of his Quickening, I'd have to say he'd killed
a busload of us over the years," the immortal tried to reassure her.
"Like a pyramid effect?" guessed Mulder.
Mac nodded. "Very much so. Some of us actively hunt each other,
striving to be the sole remaining immortal."
"What would be the point of that?" the agent wanted to know.
"The point, Mulder, is the Prize. Enough power to rule the world
forever."
Scully paled. The implications were enormous.
Mulder asked, "You said 'some of you'. What about you two?"
"I like his head right where it is, Mulder," Buffy answered.
"Most of us just live our lives, Mulder," added Mac. "Some of us – like
Buffy – do our best to protect humanity." Mac had considered –
briefly – leaving Buffy's status as an immortal a secret. But even if
the agents didn't figure it out on their own, Buffy would've had his
hide for it.
They were a team.
"Protect humanity from what?" asked Scully.
"There are a lot of evils in the world, ma'am. Some friends of mine
tried to kill Hitler sixty years ago." Mac grimaced. "Of course,
unfortunately, they failed." He shrugged. "We're immortal, but we're
human for all that. Not gods."
"How old-" Mulder started.
Scully cut him off. "Do you *have* to keep calling me that?" she
complained. Mac was starting to make her feel old. Buffy giggled.
"Don't mind the geezer, here, Dana. He's just being polite in his
typically old-fashioned way," she explained. Scully suspected it was
something Buffy teased the man about on a regular basis.
"Almost sixty," Mac answered Mulder's unfinished question. "Buffy just
turned twenty."
Mulder's jaw worked furiously. He was a little disappointed. "When you
said 'immortal', I figured you were older than that."
Mac chuckled and Buffy giggled again. "Some of us are. My teacher was
almost three thousand years old."
The sound of a dropped pin striking the floor would have been
deafening.
"Three *thousand*?" Mulder echoed.
"One of the victims that brought you two out here. Finn Bonet?" Mac
reminded them. "His name was Finn Mac Cuhill. He was once the *Rig
Fian* of the *Fianna Fail* – Supreme Commander of the Irish Army. He
was legendary – so much so that he passed into myth."
"Didn't Morgan Llewelyn write a book about him?" asked Scully. Being of
Irish descent himself, her father had read everything he could get
his hands on about ancient Irish myth and history.
Mac grinned. "Yeah. Finn loved her stuff. Claimed a lot of it was
historically accurate. For context, that is." His grin faded and his
eyes grew hard again. "A psychopath named Jan Polovsky killed him.
Right here in Sunnydale. That's what brought me."
"You plan to kill him yourself?" There was definite disapproval in
Scully's voice.
"What do you suggest he does, Dana?" Buffy demanded, defending her man.
"Have him arrested? Oh, *there's* a good idea. 'Yes, your Honor, this
is the guy that killed the three thousand year old man. Oh, by the
way, two hundred years ago, he raped and slaughtered all the nuns in a
little abbey in Poland, too'," she mocked, voice dripping sarcasm.
Scully and Mulder exchanged a meaningful look. 'Raped and murdered'?
Mulder's guess about the serial killer in San Francisco had been
right on – and barely scratched the truth.
"If this man Polovsky killed your friend, what makes you so sure you
can take him?" asked Mulder.
"I think Polovsky had a little accidental help," answered Mac.
"What help?"
Buffy sighed. "That would bring us back to the vampires," she said.
"Vampires?" echoed Scully. She nearly forgotten about that.
"Vampires, immortals... Quite a little town you've got here. No wonder
the first settlers called it the Hellmouth," observed Mulder wryly.
Buffy suddenly yawned. Mac took a quick look at his watch. "I think
that's enough for tonight, folks," he announced and stood up. Buffy
leaned into him, her arm settling around his waiSt.
"But, the vampires-" began Mulder.
"It'll keep until tomorrow, Mulder," said Mac.
"What about your wound?" asked Scully. "I'm an MD. Let me take a look
at it..."
Seeing the two immortals grin, Scully's voice trailed off. "What wound,
Dana?" asked Mac. Stepping closer to him, Scully's hand reached out
and gently pulled at the slash in his shirt. There was no evidence of
any wound – just a few flakes of dried blood. "Oh, that," remembered
Mac.
"Like we said," Buffy reminded her. "Immortal."
Seeing the disbelieving look on Scully's face, Mac sighed and
disengaged himself from Buffy. He pulled off his shirt and handed it
to his fiance. "It's ruined anyway," he said to her as he pulled a
folding knife from his belt.
Mac opened the blade and cut deeply into his arm, gritting his teeth as
he drove it through the meat and drew it up several inches toward his
elbow. Buffy held the shirt under his arm as he pulled the knife back
out. Scully took a step forward but stopped when Buffy glared. The
young woman's meaning was clear – *no one* was getting near her man
right now.
Mulder moved up next to Scully and watched as O'Byrne held his arm out
to them.
"Watch," Mac instructed.
In a few seconds, little blue sparks started dancing along the length
of both the entry and exit wounds. Fascinated, the two agents watched
the wound close up and heal before their eyes. In seconds, O'Byrne
was whole again. Not even a scar remained as evidence of the damage
he'd inflicted on himself.
Mac cleaned the blood from his arm with the shirt.
"Do you guys want to stay here?" Buffy offered. "It's pretty late." And
the two feds would be where the immortals could keep an eye on them.
She took Scully's arm. "C'mon, Dana. I'll show you guys your room."
"Uh, Buffy... We're not... That is we don't... We're *partners*,
not..." her voice trailing off, Scully had no idea why she was
suddenly so embarrassed. Half the Bureau thought she and Mulder we're
involved.
"Well, why not?" Buffy demanded. "Trust me on this Dana, life is short.
*Too* short."
"Thanks for the offer, Buffy, but we'll-" began Mulder.
Mac cut him off. "We've got three spare rooms, Mulder. Considering
where we are – and what you now know – I'd feel better if you spent
the night."
Buffy dragged Scully upstairs calling, "I'm gonna give here the big
bed, Mac," over her shoulder. The two women disappeared.
"Is she always so..." Mulder asked.
"You have no idea," confirmed Mac. "C'mon, Mulder. I'll show you to
your room."
-------------------------------------------
Part 5
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0800, Tuesday (Local)
Scully woke up to hear a soft knocking at her door. She rolled out of
bed and answered it. Because she was wearing only a T-shirt and
panties, she kept herself mostly hidden as she opened the bedroom
door.
Buffy was standing there, dressed in sweats soaked with...sweat. And
holding a cup of coffee.
"Good morning," she announced. "Mac's making breakfast. I sent Mulder
down to get your bag out of your car. Here," she pushed the coffee
through the door. "Shower's down the hall. 'Scuse me. Gotta run."
With that, the young woman vanished down the hall.
Scully sat down on the big bed and drank her coffee. The big *empty*
bed. Buffy's words from the night before had kept her awake a long
time. What *was* keeping her and Mulder apart? Well 'Mulder' was part
of the reason. 'Mulder' – not 'Fox'. She liked the name 'Fox'. More,
she thought it appropriate.
Of coarse, part of the reason she thought so might be that she was in
love with man. She wondered how he felt about her? Dana was never
really sure on that score. What had Buffy said? Life's too short?
Great advice coming from an immortal.
"Scully?" Fox – *Mulder* – called from the hall. "I've got your bag."
Dana took a deep breath.
"Come in, Mulder," she called out. As soon as the words were out of her
mouth, Dana regretted them. 'I just woke up! I'm a mess! Shit!'
Too late now – Mulder walked in. And froze. Scully was sitting on the
bed not wearing much of anything at all. A grin crawled over his
face. Dana would've been rather pleased to learn that sitting there
like that, dressed the way she was, she was fulfilling several of his
fantasies. The beginning part anyway.
The two friends looked at one another. Both thinking the same thing –
that the other didn't see them as a possibility. It would have been
poignant if it weren't so pathetic.
"You know, Scully, I think I've had this fantasy," Mulder teased.
From somewhere deep inside, Dana summoned every bit of courage she had.
"Shut up, Fox. Don't move," she ordered. Jumping up from the bed,
Dana grabbed her bag. She quickly threw it down on the bed, ripped it
open and grabbed her toothbrush and paste. She walked past him and out
the door.
"I mean it – don't move." Dana repeated, and disappeared down the hall.
'Fox'? Mulder repeated to himself. When he'd told her not to call him
that – that he'd even made his parents call him 'Mulder' – he'd been
trying to keep her at arms length. At the time, he'd felt a healthy
amount of lust of her and didn't want to compromise them. Since then
he'd fallen head over heels in love with her.
Now her calling him 'Fox' hurt a little, because it was an intimacy
coming from someone he knew he could never have. In a minute, Scully
reappeared – teeth brushed and face washed – grabbed his arm, dragged
him into the bedroom and kissed him deeply.
The world got a little wobbly for Mulder as he wrapped his arms around
the gorgeous redhead and returned her embrace.
Finishing her shower, Buffy took a few minutes to pick out something
pretty to wear and got dressed. Ready for the day, she headed out of
the bedroom. Thinking to see if Dana needed anything, she walked down
the hall to the guest room and glanced in the open door. Quietly, she
pulled back, turned on her heel and went downstairs.
Mac was just finishing setting breakfast out on the kitchen table.
Seeing Buffy's happy face, he quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Our guests may be a little late, sweetie," she said.
"Why?"
Buffy shot him a coy look. "What's *our* favorite thing to do?" she
asked.
"Oh. Well I hope they're quick. Breakfast'll be cold."
Buffy whacked his shoulder. "Be nice," she scolded him.
When Scully and Mulder finally arrived in the kitchen, Mac pulled a
tray from the oven. On it were two plates. He set them on the table.
"Careful," he advised. "Plates're hot."
Sitting at the table was another dangerous looking man. He nodded at
them. Scully and Mulder sat down and started to eat.
"Where's Buffy?" asked Dana.
"School. She has a class at nine-thirty," explained Mac. He gestured at
the stranger. "This is Thomas Jager. Hunter, these are Agents Mulder
and Dana Scully of the FBI."
"Pleased to meet you," rumbled Jager in a slightly accented voice.
O'Byrne had pronounced his name 'Yager'. Between that and the accent,
Mulder figured the man for a German.
"Are you..." Mulder's voice trailed off.
"No," answered Jager. "I'm a Watcher."
Buffy had lunch with her mother, finished the day's classes and headed
home. Poor Mom was torn, Buffy decided, between being upset that her
little girl was getting married and being excited about the wedding.
Which depressed Buffy a little.
She'd never get to go through things like that. 'Course, that wasn't
*entirely* a bad thing. Her mom had been through five or six kinds of
hell raising Buffy. And just imagine having *Mac* for a dad! 'Up and
at 'em son,' she could picture. 'Today we run fifty miles and do six
zillion push-ups. Then, once we're warmed up...' The thought of it
kind of gave her the giggles.
Once she got home, she saw Thomas' Harley and Giles' car parked in the
driveway. Biting her lip, she carefully worked her way through the
obstacles and parked her car. Once successful, she sighed in relief.
Giles probably wouldn't notice a dent, but if she dinged Thomas' bike,
he'd be furious.
Buffy didn't really get Thomas. Sure, she got the whole 'Brothers of
the Legion' thing – kind of, anyway – but the Watcher seemed to
practically worship Mac. In a strange, 'old soldier' kind of way. She
liked the man, but sometimes she thought Thomas would be a lot happier
if Mac just grabbed him and took off to invade a foreign country or
something.
And the way Thomas treated her got on her nerves sometimes. He was
almost *too* respectful. Buffy would've been shocked to learn why.
Thomas didn't simply care for her because she was Mac's lady – he
thought she was nearly the perfect woman. He was, in fact, in awe of
her in a way he never would be of Mac. Buffy had battled Hell's
minions from the time she was sixteen – Mac was just a regular kind
of warrior.
Getting out of the car, Buffy immediately felt the 'buzz'. Mac was
home. Not only home, but waiting for her when she got to the door.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
"Miss me?" she teased. Mac grinned.
"Every minute," he answered.
Giles was in the living room explaining to Scully and Mulder about the
Hellmouth, and their experiences there. When Buffy walked in, he
stopped and stood up.
"Hello, Buffy. How was your day?" he asked politely. In many ways,
Buffy was the daughter he'd never had. So it took him all of about a
nanosecond to focus on her ring. "Should I assume congratulations are
in order?"
Giles shot Mac a dirty look. The Watcher had been there for nearly two
hours, and the immortal hadn't mentioned a thing. Thomas looked
nearly outraged. He started tearing into his friend in some very rude
sounding French.
As Mac stood and patiently listened to Jager's tirade, Buffy walked
over and hugged Giles. She turned to Jager. "Thomas," she said. Jager
broke off and looked at Buffy.
"Listen, guys," she explained. "I only told Mom. I wanted to get
everyone together and have a little party, only, well, one thing sort
of led to another, you know and, well..." her voice trailed away as
Giles hugged his protégé again.
"I understand, Buffy. Congratulations. To both of you," he added with a
nod to Mac.
Jager stepped toward her and bussed her cheek with a chaste kiss. "Yes,
Buffy. Congratulations." He turned back to Mac. "As for *you*, *mon
ami*-"
"Thomas, perhaps we should accept their apology. That way we can be
here to watch the fur fly when Buffy and Mackenzie make the
announcement to everyone else that might've expected to be told sooner
rather that later," Giles suggested with a teasing stab at their
friends.
Jager gave in and grinned. In truth, he was as pleased as punch. He
hasn't believed Reaper had enough sense to marry the girl – certainly
not so quickly. He walked over and embraced his friend. Giles offered
his hand and clasped Mackenzie's shoulder.
Dana and Mulder sat through all this, nearly forgotten. It suddenly hit
Dana, that she and Fox were one of the 'things' that had come up.
Considering what Giles had been telling them, she figured that Buffy
had had to learn to snatch at her happiness where she could. Until
quite recently, at any rate.
And if Buffy hadn't been immortal, she might well be dead. *Had* died,
in fact – thus becoming immortal. She sighed – the girl would look
young and pretty forever.
And never be able to have children - any more than Dana herself could
thanks to the damn Consortium. And perfect strangers would show up
from time to time trying to kill her.
*And* she had a destiny as the 'Chosen One' on top of that! Dana
decided Buffy *deserved* to be young and pretty. And in love.
Certainly there was no doubt of that – the two immortals were head over
heels in love with each other. She'd almost asked if Mac (when did she
start thinking of him as 'Mac'?) didn't think he was moving a little
fast when Giles revealed that he'd only met Buffy six weeks before.
Somehow, Dana hadn't previously made that connection in her mind.
Now she was glad she'd kept her mouth shut. Mac and Buffy deserved to
let their friends know the good news without the accidental
interference of strangers.
Giles settled back down to continue his lecture as Buffy walked into
Mac's office to call up her friends and invite them to a party.
"Mac," Scully interrupted. "A party? Now? With this psychopath Polovsky
running around?"
The room froze up. Then Giles cleared his throat. "Miss Scully-" he
began.
"Dana," she corrected, surprising herself. She was usually so slow to
open up with people – especially civilians. What was it about this
bunch?
"Dana, then. Dana, Buffy and her friends have been fighting monsters
for years. They grab at happiness where they can. Believe me when I
say there is no hope at all that Mackenzie could derail this," he
explained.
Mulder was making observations of his own. 'Mac', 'Reaper', 'Mackenzie'
– the psychologist in him was noting that O'Byrne's relationships
could be categorized by how he was addressed. With Rupert Giles, it
was warm but proper. With Jager, it was the old soldier thing – it
would be interesting to meet others who called him 'Reaper'. 'Mac'
seemed to be for general friendly acquaintance.
Except in Buffy's case. Buffy addressed him according to her mood.
Pretty typical behavior for a woman to display with her mate,
actually.
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1830, Tuesday (Local)
Buffy had insisted Dana and Mulder stay for her engagement party.
Apparently it was going to be a pretty informal affair – Buffy didn't
have a lot of close friends. Every one of them seemed to be a part of
the 'team'.
They tended to be young, too. There was a trio named Xander, Willow and
Oz, with Willow turning out to be Buffy's best friend. Oz and Willow
were very much a couple, but Oz and Xander quickly gravitated toward
O'Byrne ('Mac', noted Mulder). A young woman named Amy showed up
shortly after, immediately huddling with Buffy and Willow after
greeting 'Mac'. Buffy's mother Joyce showed up, greeted 'Mac' and sat
with 'Rupert' (O'Byrne was the only other one that called him that,
Mulder noted). A couple friends of O'Byrne's showed up shortly
thereafter – a man and a woman. The man was named 'Big Jim' and
wanted 'Mac' to talk about vampires – he seemed obsessed with the
subject, even for this crowd (something personal there). The woman
was named Constance and had never met 'Mac' before ('Mac' *was* a
general acquaintance rule).
Then Buffy's father arrived. He had apparently only met 'Mac' once and
didn't care for him (small wonder – 'Mac' was obviously 'you bastard'
in that man's eyes).
Several dozen calls around the world from 'Mac', 'Mackenzie, *and*
'Reaper' had been made. In every case a promise had been issued for a
wedding invitation.
Buffy's father put up the best front he could, but he was still the
first to leave. Between his ex- wife, a roomful of near and complete
strangers and 'Mac' (a.k.a. 'you bastard') the man was just too
uncomfortable. Buffy walked him out when he left. The two of them
stayed outside a while. When she returned, it was pretty obvious to
all that the conversation hadn't gone well. O'Byrne was an obvious –
if clichéd – point of contention. Mulder wondered how Joyce
dealt with it.
The apparent relief of everyone in the room following Dad's departure
was explained simply enough by Joyce and Giles – the poor man was the
*only* one there who knew nothing about immortals, the Hellmouth or
Buffy's calling as the 'Chosen One'.
Despite her father's disapproval, Buffy (a.k.a. 'Mistress of the Keep')
was soon back in good spirits. Mulder watched the news about
Polovsky's suspected arrival circulate. Everyone seemed to understand
the danger. They also understood to run as fast as they could for 'Holy
Ground' at the first sight of him and report that information
('intel') to 'Mac' as quickly as possible. Even 'Big Jim' (who turned
out to be another immortal – and three hundred years old!) agreed that
'Mac' should have first crack at the 'psychopathic son of a bitch'.
Dana walked up to Mulder and goosed him. "Stop it, Fox," she
instructed.
"Stop what?" he asked innocently.
"Put that wonderful brain of yours in neutral and stop categorizing and
filing every damn little thing!" Dana knew her man. "Mac wants to
talk to you."
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2030, Tuesday
Dana walked Mulder into Mac's office. O'Byrne, Giles and Jager had
apparently slipped away from the party – the three men were waiting
for them. "Have a seat, Mulder," instructed O'Byrne. Mulder sat.
Surprising him to no end – albeit pleasantly – Dana perched herself
on the arm of his chair and looped her arm over his shoulder. He
suspected it had little to do with seating availability.
'Christ! Where has this X-File been?' he wondered.
"All right, Mulder," began O'Byrne. "Decision time. You've been briefed
– you've *both* been briefed – on who we are and what we do. You
possess more information than I, personally, have ever trusted
someone with on such short notice. Where do you stand?"
"What do you mean, Mac?" asked Dana.
"He means, my lady," answered Jager, "what do you intend to do with
that information?"
"You've met us. You know what we do," added Giles. "You know about
Buffy. It is fair, we think, to ask your intentions."
Mulder had been seriously considering that question for almost twenty-
four hours. "Polovsky has to be stopped," he said.
"Yes, he must be," agreed Giles. "Can *you* stop him?"
Mulder had been considering *that* as well. The only way to stop him
meant cutting his head off. Even if the immortal was somehow
arrested, confined... Mulder knew all too well that certain agencies
both inside and outside the government would grab him. The real
question was what *they* would do with him.
If that cigarette-smoking son-of-a-bitch got his hands on an
immortal...
And what would happen if there was no Buffy? Well, sure, if she died
another Slayer would be called. Would she be nearly as adequate? Or
would she be just the latest in a string of *children* going back
centuries who was slaughtered by demons? Mulder was curious why he was
so quick to accept the claims of this group – they bordered on the
fantastic.
Of course, Mulder had quite a bit of experience in dealing with the
unbelievable.
What about the immortals and their 'Game'? Well, if exposed, who was
most likely to survive the manhunt? A few like O'Byrne, maybe. And a
shitload like Polovsky. Those like the Cancerman. One of them would
win this 'Prize'. Then the world really *would* be in for the shitstorm
of all time.
"No," Mulder answered. "I can't."
"Then you'd best leave it to Reaper, don't you think?" suggested Jager.
The only problem there was that Mulder was all too aware that 'Reaper'
had been perfectly prepared to kill both he and Dana. He might be
heroic, but he was a heroic *bastard* with the conscience of a
chainsaw.
Still, all the people out in the living room obviously liked and
trusted him – even the woman whose daughter's cradle he'd robbed.
Considering how easily O'Byrne could have killed him, maybe it was a
point in the man's favor that he hadn't.
Mulder was trained to judge men's characters accurately. He had years
of experience doing just that – and doing it well. While he never
wanted to get on O'Byrne's 'enemies list' – which, all things
considered, probably tended to stay rather short – Mulder knew the man
was a walking, talking, living, breathing *hero*. With lots of
friends just like him.
Friends that, on the one hand, would avenge him. And who, on the other,
would drop everything and race to his side if called.
Mackenzie O'Byrne might just be the ally Mulder and Scully needed. To
make an ally of the man, he needed to do more than keep his secrets.
"No, I don't," responded Mulder.
"Damn it, man-" Giles began. O'Byrne cut him off by lifting his hand
and signaling 'Halt'.
"What are you offering, Mulder?" asked Reaper. "And what's the price?"
Buffy pulled her head out of a steadily more giddy conversation about
weddings with Willow, Amy and her mother to notice that Mac was AWOL.
Along with Giles, Thomas, Dana and Mulder. Big Jim and his date – a
woman he'd saved from a vampire in San Diego a couple weeks before –
were 'looking at weapons' in the basement, she knew. Xander and Oz
were in the TV room scarfing down junk food and watching the Playboy
Channel on the big screen, but everyone else had disappeared.
She excused herself from the girls and headed for Mac's office. She
quietly opened it and slipped inside.
"So you're claiming that an evil extra-governmental agency is planning
to – no, *conspiring with* – aliens to conquer the planet?" asked
Giles. "Agent Mulder, I find that rather hard to believe," he
scoffed.
"Rupert, you're sitting in a room with an immortal and a Vampire
Slayer," Mac said as Buffy perched herself on the arm of his chair.
She winked at Dana. "*You're* going to scoff at this?"
That pretty well shut Giles down. "Well, yes. Mackenzie. I see your
point."
"But, Reaper, *why* would they do it?" asked Thomas.
"Why does any power-mad lunatic ally himself with demons, Hunter? Or
try to conquer a neighboring nation? Or," he suggested pointedly,
"try to exterminate an entire race of people?"
Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"'Why' doesn't matter," Mac added. He turned to Mulder. "All right,
Mulder. You help us – Polovsky comes first. He's here, he's probably
coming for me or Buffy and I can deal with him *now*.
"Then we'll help you. I'll call my friends and we'll shut these
motherfuckers down," he finished.
"Shut who down, honey?" asked Buffy. Mac was wound tight as a spring.
Whatever it was that Mulder had told him about, Mac was furious. He
reminded her of the night he'd decided to wage war on the vampires.
He'd 'called his friends' then, too – in a week they'd killed more than
a hundred of the beasts, virtually exterminating the local
population.
"Bad guys, sweetie. Soon to be deceased bad guys," Mac answered.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------
Part 6
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0800, Wednesday (Local).
Buffy groaned as her eyes fluttered open and focused on the clock. It
had been a long night. She turned in Mac's arms and faced him. His
eyes were open and staring into hers. The lovers traded a soft kiss.
Then Buffy forced herself out of bed. As she stumbled toward the bath,
Mac's voice rang out quietly, "Now there's a beautiful sight."
Buffy turned and looked at Mac. All of a sudden she felt a little self-
conscious about her nudity. Blushing a really pretty shade of pink,
Buffy crossed her arms over her breasts and turned in profile –
unintentionally striking a provocative pose. Mac leaped out of bed,
crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her. He began to draw her
back to bed, but Buffy shook herself loose.
"Hey, Tarzan. Jane have class, remember?"
"Can I carry your books?" asked Mac with a grin.
Buffy smiled at her fiance. "No, honey. I've really got to go –
provided, that is, you ever want to see me graduate."
"Well, fine then," Mac teased her with a wink. "Wash your own back,
missy."
Buffy gazed at him with an evil glint in her eye, then walked up and
nuzzled his neck. "Tell you what," she promised, "You get rid of our
new friends, and I'll put on my cheerleader outfit when I get back."
Mac stroked her hair and whispered in her ear, "Tease."
Buffy giggled.
Mac walked into the kitchen and found Mulder and Scully brewing coffee.
"You kids are up, I see," he greeted them.
"Morning, Mac," Dana smiled. Her red hair was a bit tousled, and
overall she looked tired.
'Not bad looking for first thing in the morning, though,' observed Mac.
'Not *Buffy*, but not bad.'
Mulder looked as if he'd been hit by a truck. "Morning, Mac," he said
tiredly.
Mac quickly made breakfast. In a few minutes, Buffy made an appearance,
scarfed down some food, gave her fiancé a kiss and darted out
the front door. The moment she was gone, the phone rang.
"Hello?" Mac answered it.
"*Mac, Duncan. Can you pick up Joe and me at LAX this afternoon?*"
Macleod's voice asked.
"Duncan! Sure, pal. What's bringing you two down here?"
"*Joe and I figured you might need some help with your 'visitors',*"
answered the older immortal. "*Besides, we wanted to see Buffy. At
the rate you two are going, we thought you might slip off and get
married before you remembered to send out the invitations.*" Duncan
teased.
"Oh, ha, ha," replied Mac. "What time's your flight due in?"
"*Three-thirty. Gate C-23.*"
"I'll be there, my friend. Until then," finished Mac. He hung up the
phone and looked at the agents. "Company's coming," he explained.
Scene 2
L.A., Ca.
Los Angeles International Airport
1515, Wednesday (Local)
When Joe Dawson and Duncan Macleod walked out of the causeway and into
the terminal, they found Mac waiting for them. The three friends
shook hands and embraced warmly.
"Where's Buffy?" asked Joe.
"Wednesday, Joe," explained Mac. "Her last class didn't get out 'till
three. I called her at lunch and let her know you guys were coming.
She'll be at the Keep when we get back."
The group was quiet as the visitors retrieved their bags and the three
men went out to the truck and began the trip to Sunnydale. Once on
the way, Mac explained the events of the last three days.
"So you think Polovsky is here?" asked Duncan. "In Sunnydale?"
Mac nodded an affirmative. "That's what my gut tells me. Of course, it
might have been that idiot Mitchell I passed on the highway."
"Or another immortal entirely," pointed out Joe.
Mac nodded again. "Yeah, but, like I said, my gut says 'Polovsky'."
"Then you think he's coming for you?" asked Duncan.
"Yeah," answered Mac. "Maybe Buffy, too. Although I think it unlikely.
She's too new. If Polovsky had known about her before..."
The implication was obvious to Macleod and Dawson. Polovsky would have
jumped at the chance to 'enjoy' Buffy. Until Mac had come to town,
Buffy hadn't know she was an immortal – ergo, she wouldn't have known
how to kill one. Despite her abilities, Polovsky would have had the
upper hand the whole way.
"So, what *really* brings you two down here?" asked Mac.
Duncan turned in his seat to share a look with Joe, sitting in back.
"Have you ever heard of a 'Dark Quickening'?" he asked Mac.
"No," the younger man answered. "What's that?"
"We – the Watchers – used to think it was a myth," answered Joe. "Now
we know it can be very real."
"It?" prompted Mac.
"Did you ever meet Darius?" queried Duncan.
Mac nodded. "Yeah. Hell of a man. I heard someone got him."
"Yes. Hunters – renegade Watchers, bent on destroying us all,"
confirmed Duncan.
Hearing that, Mac shot a look at Dawson in the rear-view mirror. The
Watcher looked chagrined. "Fanatic splinter group, Mac. Pretty much
all dead, now," Joe explained.
"*Pretty* much?!" exploded the veteran. Mortals that new about them –
and how to kill them... Shit! How in hell could he and Buffy protect
themselves from *that*? And he'd thought the idea of the Watchers –
recording their immortal lives – was a pretty good one. Christ – if
Hunter had been one of them...
"Yeah, pretty much," agreed Duncan. "But that's not the issue right
now. We need to warn you about the Dark Quickening, Mac."
Mac chewed that over. "All right," he finally said. "Tell me."
Buffy was practically hopping. Jager and Giles had come over, each
eager to see the two incoming visitors again. Buffy had drafted their
help straightening the place up. Not that it needed it, reflected
Scully. Buffy and Mac – mostly Mac, probably – kept a clean house.
Jager had been further assigned to 'Go do that barbaric man-thing out
back' by Buffy. Which turned out to be skewering and roasting a
tremendous slab of meet over an open barbecue pit.
Mulder had spent a lot of the day in Mac's office, reviewing his
library. Buffy had reluctantly allowed that, but only with the strict
instruction not to touch *anything* but the books. Apparently the
office was Mac's space and Buffy didn't want anyone disturbing it. The
longer she was around the affianced immortals, the deeper Dana's
appreciation for their relationship grew.
It surprised her a little that Buffy didn't summon her younger friends.
After a while, she figured out why. Buffy wanted a chance to greet
'Joe' and 'Duncan' privately before calling up the rest of her
extended family. Giles and Jager were there because they had their own
connections to the incoming guests.
Besides, Scully decided, this was probably Buffy's first chance to be
the hostess for dear friends in an adult setting. It was kind of
charming.
Shortly after five, the Buffy walked through the living room and opened
the front door. Mac and two men were walking up the steps to the
front porch. The house had thick walls, and Scully hadn't heard Mac's
truck pull up – how had Buffy known they were back?
Seeing the question on her face, Giles explained, "Immortals can sense
one another. It's how they prepare themselves for what they may
face."
Mulder and Scully traded a look, remembering how Mac and Buffy seemed
to have known that Mitchell was nearby a few nights before.
Apparently, they *had* known. Damn.
Buffy gave Mac a quick kiss, then squealed, "Joe, Duncan!" and gave
both men a big hug. Each of the men returned her embrace warmly.
Mulder noted the friendliness of the group, while Dana practically
basked in the warmth.
'Who *are* these people?' she wondered, looking around the room at the
men and Buffy. 'I didn't think there were any heroes left in the
world, yet here they are.'
Buffy brought Duncan and Joe over to the two agents. "Joe, Duncan,
Dana, Mulder," she introduced them.
The four strangers contemplated one another for a long moment. Finally,
Duncan offered his hand and Joe quickly followed suit, saying,
"Walter Skinner speaks highly of you."
Mulder and Scully stared at the bearded man, leaning on a cane. So,
this was Skinner's 'source'.
"Where did you meet A.D. Skinner, Joe?" asked Dana.
"Viet Nam. We served together in the Corps before *this*," the Watcher
explained as he thumped the cane against one of his legs. The strike
produced a sharp smacking sound – Joe's legs were prostheses.
"How..." Dana began. She let her voice trail off, not wanting to be
intrusive.
"Stepped on a land mine." Joe shrugged. "Could've been worse. It led to
my involvement with the Watchers. Sometimes life works out in strange
ways."
Mulder was aghast. "*Skinner* knows about immortals?" he demanded.
Joe shook his head. "Not unless you've told him."
Everyone quickly settled down after that. With Buffy playing hostess,
the feds and the Watchers began to exchange information. It had
surprised Mulder to learn that Giles was from an entirely different
group of 'Watchers' and that the two groups hadn't known about one
another until recently.
Giles' group was less than pleased with what they'd learned, but any
action they might have taken was forestalled by a couple of guys –
another immortal friend of Buffy and Mac named Jean-Paul Deblout and
Deblout's Watcher – on separate visits. Deblout had offered them a
quick death. His Watcher had offered an exchange of information.
Mulder wondered which of the two had been more convincing.
At any rate, Dawson's Watchers had assigned a liaison to Giles'
superiors and an uneasy truce was in effect. Probably a good thing
all around, Mulder decided. Giles' group had just picked up some *very*
effective allies in their battle against evil. And they got to live.
The agent had no doubt that this Deblout wouldn't have hesitated to
kill them all – immortals tended to be very comfortable when dealing
out violence.
And now Giles had one hell of a lot of influence with his superiors.
Not only was his Slayer immortal – and involved with another immortal
who was particularly dangerous in his own right – but Giles was also
*the* key element connecting the immortals and the Council. In recent
weeks, the vampire population in Southern California and around Paris
(Deblout and friends at work) had been annihilated. Hope was daring
to raise its head in the Council.
Buffy walked out on the porch and found Mac in his usual pose – deep in
his favorite chair, feet kicked up on the rail and a bottle of beer
resting in a bucket of ice beside him. Her honey looked to be deep in
thought.
Buffy walked over to him, sat down in his lap and snuggled against her
man as he wrapped his arms around her and softly kissed the top of
her head.
"Penny?" she asked.
Mac was giving the subject of Dark Quickenings a lot of thought. Would
it happen to him? If – *when* – he took Polovsky's head, would it
turn him as a Dark Quickening had once turned Duncan? Would he hunt
Buffy just as Duncan had hunted his own friends?
He was also wondering what to tell Buffy.
"Mac and Joe are here in case I find Polovsky," he explained. Buffy got
the truth, he decided. Always.
"What do you mean?" she asked, tensing up.
"There's a danger of something called a 'Dark Quickening'. It happened
to Duncan, once. Couple of years ago, he killed an immortal so
overcome with evil that it drowned the goodness within him. Made him
evil."
Buffy felt her heart start to hammer as Mac continued. "It can work
both ways. Remember me telling you about my friend Darius? That he
killed an immortal monk at the gates of Paris and suddenly decided to
disband his army and spare the city?"
Buffy nodded. Darius had been a barbarian warrior bent on the conquest
of Europe early in the first millennium. She'd wondered why he'd
changed his mind.
"Well," Mac continued, "apparently, the Quickening of the monk he
killed drowned the darkness within him. That's what changed him."
"So, killing an evil immortal can make you go bad?" she asked
fearfully. Buffy knew full well that Mac was bent on killing
Polovsky. Finn Mac Cuhil's Quickening hadn't turned Polovsky into a
good guy. That butcher practically *personified* evil.
Mac nodded. "Like I said, it happened to Duncan."
"But Duncan isn't evil," Buffy contradicted him.
"No, not now. But he was. He started hunting and killing his friends.
Immortals he'd know for centuries." Buffy started to shiver. If Mac
killed Polovsky...
"Are you saying you might come for me?" she asked quietly.
Mac paused for a long moment. The silence was pregnant with morbid
possibilities. Finally, he answered, "Joe and Duncan think it's a
possibility. After what happened to Duncan, another immortal captured
him and took him to a holy spring. Somehow it cured him.
"Our friends are here in case Polovsky's Quickening turns me. To try
and do the same for me," he finished.
"'Try'," echoed Buffy. "You mean it might not work?"
Slowly, Mac nodded his head. "There are no guarantees, no."
"But you have to face him anyway?" Buffy asked. "Why can't we catch
him, encase him in cement and drop him in the middle of the ocean?"
Mac smiled down at the young woman who had captured his heart. "Finn's
Quickening, Buffy. I won't have that lost."
Buffy settled her head against Mac's chest as tears formed in her eyes.
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
Sunnydale Central Park
2030, Wednesday (Local)
Buffy and Dana strolled through the park. Mac, Duncan and Mulder were
several hundred feet in their wake 'pulling drag'. As they walked,
Dana wondered what was bothering the younger woman. Finally, tired of
the ominous silence, she asked.
"Buffy, what's wrong?"
Buffy looked at Scully, wondering what to tell her. She sighed. "Duncan
and Joe came down here in case Mac finds Polovsky..."
As Buffy revealed the worries of the other immortals and their
Watchers, Scully grew progressively paler.
"This 'cure'," she asked at last. "It's worked before?"
"Yeah, but Mac and Duncan are different. Duncan is kind of an overgrown
boy scout and he's been around for four *centuries*," Buffy
explained. "Mac is very in tune with his dark side. He uses it when
he fights. Hell, I think he uses it when he *cooks*. He's been involved
in a lot of bad stuff over the years."
"Tell me," instructed Dana.
As Buffy told Dana about Mac's history, the agent's heart started
hammering in her chest. Five years in the French Foreign Legion, most
of it spent in Viet Nam and Algeria. Three more years spent in Viet
Nam with US Army Special Forces. Another six years spent on and off in
Latin America, fighting in Reagan's drug war. Counter-terrorist
operations all over the planet, working for the CIA, British MI-6,
the Israeli Mossad...
Five decades spent studying martial arts. Everything from Aikido to
Philippine stick-fighting to something called Wun Hop Kwen Do.
Nearly thirty battles with other immortals – almost always to the
death.
And now his campaign against the vampires.
Dana Scully understood Buffy's concern. But maybe the young immortal
had missed something. "Buffy, maybe his comfort with darkness is a
help. Duncan spent his life as a – what did you say? Overgrown boy
scout?"
Buffy nodded and gave Dana a sad smile. "Well," Scully continued. "Mac
has spent *his* life swimming with the sharks. Maybe he can channel
evil better than Duncan can."
Buffy suddenly looked hopeful. "Do you really think so?" she pleaded.
One person she'd loved – Angel – had turned evil. Buffy didn't think
she could handle losing Mac the same way. She still had nightmares
about being forced to kill Angel.
Losing Mac would destroy her.
Behind them, the men were discussing the Consortium. Despite dealing
with vampires, immortals and even a demon named Ahriman, Duncan was
proving a bit skeptical.
"Pardon me, Duncan," taunted Mac. "But doesn't the name 'Hitler' mean
anything to you? If memory serves, Connor helped liberate one of that
bastard's concentration camps. Hell, *you* tried to assassinate the
sack of shit yourself," the younger immortal pointed out.
"The Consortium I can buy, Mac," countered Duncan. "It's the part about
aliens that I'm having a problem with."
"I've *seen* them, Macleod," asserted Mulder. "Believe me – they're
real."
"*Duncan*!" Mac suddenly hissed quietly. O'Byrne was staring at
something off in distant shadows.
Macleod saw it, too, apparently. "Got it," he answered.
Mulder had no idea what the two immortals were looking at. Until he saw
Buffy racing across the park at whatever had caught the other men's
attention.
Buffy had seen the beast, all right. She'd also seen what it was
carrying.
"C'mon," she ordered Dana. "*Quietly*," she added. Suddenly, Buffy was
gone. Dana stared at the young woman's retreating form for a moment
before racing in pursuit.
As she chased after the Slayer, Scully saw the three men looking in the
direction Buffy was running. They raced to close with her.
Buffy hit the vampire with a flying kick. The beast dropped its burden
– a young child – as it slammed back into a tree. Pulling a stake out
with either hand, Buffy stepped forward and kicked the vampire in the
face. It snarled at her as she darted forward and slammed a stake
through each shoulder.
Its howl was cut off when Buffy punched it in the throat. Drawing her
pistol, the Slayer shot the beast through both knees. She had the
silenced .38 leveled at its face when the men arrived. Seeing that
his fiancé had things well in hand, Mac crouched down next to
the boy.
"Still breathing, sweetie," he reported just as Scully joined the
group. Mac pulled a squirt gun from his coat pocket and squirted it
in the child's face. The boy blinked his eyes.
"Who, who, who're you?" stuttered the boy.
"The cavalry, son," answered Mac. "You're going to be okay. What's your
name?"
"B-B-Billy. I w-want to go ho-home," cried the child.
"Okay, Billy. We'll take you home." Scooping up the boy, Mac called out
to Buffy. "Make it quick, honey."
Once her man had taken the boy far enough away, Buffy went to work on
the vampire. She handed her pistol to Duncan. "Cover me," she
ordered. Macleod nodded. Buffy reached out and broke both of the
vampire arms.
"That was to get your attention fang boy. I want to know where your
friends are – *now*," she emphasized.
Mulder and Scully watched the quick, brutal interrogation of the
hissing *thing* staked to the tree. After about two minutes, Buffy
drew another stake and shoved through the vampires heart. It exploded
into dust with a soft *poof*. Without a second look, the Slayer spun on
her heel, retrieved her pistol from Duncan and pulled out her cell
phone.
"Giles, it's Buffy.
"Yeah, we found one. It had a little boy.
"No, the kid's fine. Listen, it volunteered some info."
'"Volunteered"?' thought Mulder.
'Oh my god!' thought Dana. 'We were worried about *Mac*?'
"Yeah, we're gonna get the kid home and head for the nest," continued
Buffy. "I'll check in later. Bye," finished the Slayer. Putting away
her phone, Buffy looked at the two agent's expressions. "What?" she
demanded.
"You're pretty...efficient," observed Dana cautiously.
"She's had a lot of practice over the years," pointed out Duncan.
"I staked a vampire once," interrupted Mulder. "*It* didn't go *poof*."
Buffy shot the man a look. "Then you didn't do it right, Mulder. Let's
go."
The four of them reached the entrance to the park just as Mac pulled up
in the truck. The boy was sitting in the front seat, so Buffy lifted
him up, slid in and set the boy on her lap.
"Drive carefully, honey," she teased Mac. He nodded. The boy wasn't out
of danger yet, not sitting perched on an adult's lap in the front
seat of a moving vehicle. "Hey, Billy. Why don't you tell us where
you live?" she gently coaxed the child.
As he gave directions as best he could – the kid couldn't have been
more that five or six years old – he clutched Buffy tightly.
Pulling up in front of what was hopefully the kid's house, Mac leaned
over and whispered to him, "Don't be getting any ideas there, son.
The lady's spoken for." Mac winked at the kid and Billy giggled.
Buffy whacked Mac gently across his cheSt.
"Be nice," she teased, causing Billy to giggle again.
"Wait here," Mac ordered the passengers as he, Buffy and Billy climbed
out.
"They're good with kids," observed Dana. "It's too bad..." She left the
rest of the sentiment unspoken. None of the group would be having
children of their own. In Mulder's case, that was because Dana
couldn't, but still...
"Yeah," agreed Duncan. "Which is kind of strange."
"Why's that?" asked Mulder.
"Because Mac doesn't really care for children. Must be Buffy's
influence," Duncan explained.
After a few minutes, the couple in question returned to the truck. "I
don't care, Mac!" Buffy was saying angrily. "They're the ones that
let Billy out to play. They should be keeping a better eye on him!
They're his parents!"
"Granted, they could've handled that a little better, honey, but-" he
replied as he started the truck.
Oblivious to the amused curiosity of Mulder, Dana and Duncan, Buffy cut
Mac off. "I'll say they could've handled it better!"
"Guys!" interrupted Dana. "What happened?"
"They were a little upset that Billy left the yard-" Mac started.
"They started yelling at Billy!" Buffy cut her fiancé off again.
"Like it's *his* fault that some vampire snatched him?"
"Still, sweetie," scolded Mac. "Offering to rip the guys lungs out was
a little much, don't you think?" Buffy folded her arms and glared at
him.
"You told his parents about the vampire?" asked Mulder.
"No. We said that we saw a gang-banger dragging Billy through the park.
I doubt Billy will realize any different," answered Mac.
"Why not tell them the truth?" asked the fed.
"Oh, right, Mulder. 'Hi, folks! I'm Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. We just
rescued your son from a blood- sucking fiend from Hell!'," mocked
Buffy. "Yeah. Keen idea. *Not!*"
"No one would believe us, Mulder," counseled Mac a bit more soberly.
"No one wants to know the truth. Trust me on this."
Mulder and Scully traded a look, remembering their reception from the
Police Chief. The immortals had a point.
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
1210 Parker Dr
0500, Thursday (Local)
Scully and Mulder waited in Mac's Pathfinder. Leaning against the
truck, Jager cradled a shotgun. Giles and Dawson had been ordered to
wait back at the Keep while the Slayer led her small strike team
against the new nest. Jager had been allowed to come along to keep the
feds out of trouble. Apparently, the Watcher was used to baby sitting
duties. His usual station during a hunt was driving the Pathfinder,
loaded with weapons and some of Buffy's friends, all of them on post as
a reserve.
The three immortals had disappeared almost half an hour before,
positioning themselves for the strike. Even if they hadn't been told,
Mulder and Scully would have easily picked up that the group were
experienced at what they were doing.
"Don't like being left behind, Jager?" asked Mulder.
The Watcher shook his head. "No, I don't. I understand it, but I don't
like it. Still," Jager reluctantly allowed, "I can't fault Reaper's
tactics. We all come home."
"There's something I don't understand," began Mulder. "What's with the
guns? I'd have thought they'd be kind of useless against vampires."
Jager gave him an evil grin. "That's because you don't know what
they're loaded with," he said. "We modified a bunch of hollow-point
ammo, filled it with garlic and holy water. The round practically
*explodes* after penetration. For a vampire, it's one *painful* way to
die. Of course, you have to get them in the heart to actually kill
them. Otherwise, it's just excruciating torment."
The two agents remembered Buffy kneecapping the vampire in the park and
traded a look. The Slayer could be stone cold when she wanted to be.
"We just got in a load of .38 wooden slugs. Haven't had a chance to try
them in the field yet," added Jager.
"And the shotgun?" asked Scully.
Jager racked the gun and caught the ejected round. He handed it over.
Mulder examined the short, *sharp* stake. Scully looked over his
shoulder and asked, "Doesn't the tip get blunted in the gun?"
"Not enough to affect performance. Effective tools, but you've got to
be *close*. Ballistics on these toys are for shit," explained the
veteran.
"I presume you've...'tested' this equipment before?" asked Mulder.
Jager nodded again. "Yeah. When we've got something new, Reaper and
Buffy select a...*test subject*. They've got a cage in the basement
back at the Keep."
Scully shuddered. "For vampires?" she asked.
"Yes and no. The cage does double duty as Oz's holding pen."
"Why would Oz need a holding pen?" asked Mulder.
Jager smiled. "'Cause he's a werewolf," he answered. "Ah, they're
back." Mulder's mind was reeling. *Werewolf?! * Scully looked up at
the approaching warriors – for warriors they were, she no longer had
any doubt of that. And there were more of them spread out all over the
place around the world. Why was that oddly comforting?
Upon returning to the Keep, the group trudged inside to report in to
Giles.
"How many?" asked the Watcher.
"Five," answered Mac. "I worked on one for a few minutes. This nest
wasn't connected to anyone else here. Learned something interesting
though," he added with a smile. Buffy giggled and Duncan chuckled.
"What was that?" Giles asked.
"It seems," answered Duncan, "that the word is out in the vampires'
'community' that Sunnydale is an unhealthy place to be. The 'Greatest
Slayer in history' *and *her 'mate' are getting a reputation as being
unstoppable."
"The vampires we just dealt with thought it was bull," added Mac.
"Foolish of them," observed Giles with a small smile.
Dana noted that all of them looked rather pleased with themselves.
Especially Buffy – the part about her 'mate' seemed to just tickle
her pink. And, curiously, Mac didn't seem to mind being referred to
as a virtual appendage. Apparently, being the 'Slayer's *mate*' was
something that agreed with him.
Of course, it was an accurate description. Buffy *was* the Slayer and
Mac was definitely her mate.
'Vampires beware,' Scully thought.
------------------------------------------
Part 7
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St 0800, Thursday (Local)
Sitting in the shade of a boulder half a mile away from O'Byrne's
house, Polovsky watched O'Byrne's woman drive away. Through the high-
power telescope, the immortal thought the girl looked tired. Young,
too.
'So,' he thought to himself. 'O'Byrne likes them young. We have
something in common!'
The immortal continued to watch. After a while, he sat bolt upright.
O'Byrne and another immortal entered the back yard and began to
fence. Polovsky new the second man was an immortal because he
recognized him.
Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod.
Shit! Polovsky hadn't seen that bastard in over a hundred years. Where
had it been? Oh, yes. The Pacific Northwest – 1868. Neither of them
had been looking for a fight. No, that wasn't quite right.
Macleod had been hunting an immortal named Kern. Something about
Macleod's woman being murdered, if he remembered right. Judging that
the other immortal wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with right then
– Macleod had clearly been on the warpath – Polovsky had slipped away.
He'd heard a lot about Macleod over the years since. About the
*Macleods*, plural. Duncan and Connor. Each had a considerable
reputation. Connor had taken out the Kurgen back in – what? '85, '86?
The Kurgen was no joke, either.
Polovsky recalled that *both* of the Clansmen had been summoned by
O'Byrne the month before to deal with the vampires. Just two among a
half-dozen of the formidable immortals that O'Byrne had called.
What in *hell* was Macleod still doing here?
After a while, three other men came outside. A cripple, a bookish
looking sort and a man who was clearly a soldier. They sat and drank
coffee as the immortals sparred. 'Mortals,' decided Polovsky.
Macleod and O'Byrne traded blows faster and faster. Judging by their
styles, Polovsky decided they both liked short, close fights. Seeing
Macleod leap into the air and somersault over O'Byrne's head, with
O'Byrne practically levitating and spinning to meet the new attack,
Polovsky amended his thought. They might *prefer* the close fight,
but the two immortals were flexible as hell on the subject.
Two more joined the coffee klatch – a man and a woman. After a while,
the two immortals ceased their exercise and joined the group. The
newest arrival – the man – apparently asked O'Byrne to spar with him.
Another immortal? No – they didn't use swords. O'Byrne was working with
the man, showing him some unarmed combat techniques.
Polovsky snorted a short laugh. Aside from Macleod, O'Byrne had
surrounded himself with *mortals*. What was he training them for? Of
course! To hunt vampires. Obviously that was becoming a long term
project for the immortal.
After a bit longer, the mortal soldier went inside and retrieved some
weapons. Polovsky carefully shifted to stay in the shadows as the sun
climbed higher in the sky and watched the group below set up targets.
The weapons were mostly pistols fitted with silencers. But there was
one very large caliber sniper system as well. Polovsky judged that it
had to be a .50 – it was much to large to be anything else. The
soldier was explaining something about the rifle to the man and woman
who'd come out last. When he finished that, he started in on the
pistols. Polovsky wondered if O'Byrne seriously intended to fire the
monster weapon.
No, he decided. Just the suppressed pistols. Every one of them – even
the cripple – turned out to be at least a fair shot. O'Byrne and his
pet soldier were awesome. But what the hell good were guns against
vampires? After considering the question for a while, he lit on the
answer. O'Byrne had made some kind of special ammunition! Clever
bastard. Didn't care squat about tradition – O'Byrne would examine
the problem and figure out a solution that *worked*.
Meaning he was more dangerous than Polovsky had thought.
His tactics, his allies, O'Byrne's own abilities... Polovsky would need
an edge or he'd need to run. Luckily, there was an edge to be had.
O'Byrne had a rather obvious weakness.
He had a woman.
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1700, Thursday (Local)
Buffy walked into the Keep to be greeted by the smell of dinner.
Sniffing the air, she decided dinner smelled pretty good. She
groaned. Buffy knew that she had to get these people out of her house
or she was gonna get mega chunky. Of coarse, it would taste good on
the way. Mac appeared in front of her.
"Don't worry, sweetie," he said. "We'll run it off." Mac wrapped his
arms around Buffy, lifted her up and gave her a deep, lingering kiss.
"I was hoping we'd find some *other* way to burn the calories, Mac,"
she suggested playfully. Mac smiled in reply. "Miss me?" Buffy asked.
Mac's smile grew wider as he kissed his lady again.
Dana walked in and caught the display of affection. "I'm kind of
surprised you two have the energy to fight vampires," she teased.
Buffy and Mac unlocked their lips and turned their heads to Scully.
"It's an immortal thing," said Buffy playfully. She patted Mac on the
shoulder. "Put me down, Mackenzie. I need to go get clean."
Mac obliged and Buffy headed for the stairway. Pausing on the first
step, she turned back to him. "Well?" she asked. "Aren't you gonna
come along and ask me about my day?"
Mac padded over to her, hoisted her up until she was cradled in his
arms and carried the woman up the stairs. Dana watched them go with a
smile on her face.
"They are very much in love," came Jager's voice from behind her.
Scully turned to find Fox and Thomas looking at the stairs.
"I hope they're quick," wisecracked Mulder. "Dinner's almost ready."
Jager turned on the man with blood in his eyes. Scully darted forward
and slapped Mulder's arm. "Be nice, Fox," she ordered, hoping that
would defuse the veteran.
It didn't. "Mulder, I will say this only once. You will treat the
mistress of this house with proper respect or I will kill you," Jager
said in a slow, flat voice. "Do you understand?"
"He was teasing, Thomas," soothed Dana. Jager fixed Mulder with an icy
glare for a long second, then turned on his heel and left.
"Jesus!" commented Mulder. "What was that about?"
"Isn't it obvious, Fox? Thomas is in love with her," informed Dana.
Mulder pondered that for a moment. "Well, he's fond of her but-"
"No, Fox," sighed Dana. "In love. Not he-wants-her-for-himself love.
More like the old-fashioned, courtly type."
"You think?" asked her partner.
"I *think* that he meant what he said, Fox. Mackenzie O'Byrne might
grin at a crack like that. Thomas would kill you."
Buffy actually *did* tell Mac about her day – it just took a while to
get around to it. First, they had felt a mutual need to burn some of
those calories that Buffy was always worried about.
It was almost six when they got back downstairs. In a way, they'd
followed Mulder's advice – for the two of them, that *had* been
quick.
Under Jager's careful scrutiny, Mulder kept his mouth shut. The rest of
them were just polite as the late arrivals grabbed some food. The
agents were gradually drawn into the circle of friends as the
afternoon gave way to evening. At eight, Buffy decided to drag them all
down to the Bronze.
She called her friends and pretty soon the whole group had decided to
meet there at nine.
Mulder looked around at Buffy's extended family. Oz was playing with
the band on stage ('Dingoes Ate My Baby?' he mused, chuckling
quietly). Willow was dishing with Buffy, who was leaned back against
O'Byrne, cradled under one of his arms. Jager and Xander were
discussing something about new tactics the 'Slayerettes' were keen to
try out. Duncan and Joe were sitting across from Dana and himself,
quietly drinking coffee as the four of them and O'Byrne (apparently
oblivious to Buffy and Willow's discussion) listened to Giles report
on something the Council had just sent him.
It was a comfortable group.
Deceptive, too. Mulder was keenly aware that between Buffy, Mac, Jager,
Duncan, Dana and himself there was enough firepower being carried to
overthrow a small nation. Among the entire group there was enough
destructive experience to terrorize a fair-sized one.
Yet, to look at them from a distance, they were just a group of friends
aged between twenty and maybe thirty-five (discounting Dawson and
Giles) enjoying an evening out on the town. Though he still had
qualms about the kids – *young people*, he amended – being involved, it
was obvious that the warriors in the group valued them. Where it came
to vampires and demons at any rate. Players in the 'Game' were
strictly the purview of the immortals.
Macleod and O'Byrne, specifically. Mulder wondered if Buffy minded the
unspoken protectiveness. Given her obvious disdain for the 'Game' –
she gone on at some length about the stupidity of it before – and the
older immortals' plain submission to her in the demon department,
Mulder thought it unlikely. Interesting.
He was on the verge of a grin, thinking about the creative kind of
suicide someone would be committing by accosting them, when a couple
of drunken idiots did just that.
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
The Bronze
2145, Thursday (Local)
"Hey, girlie, let's dance," demanded a young man as he dropped his hand
on Willow's shoulder. The young woman nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Uhm, thanks, but, no," answered Willow. "My boyfriend's in the band."
"Well," announced the first kid's friend, "If he complains, we'll deal
with him. Hey, sweet thang," said punk number two to Buffy. "Let's
dance."
Mulder looked around at the assembled group, wondering who was going to
lead the charge. Curiously, none of them moved. Xander tensed up, but
Jager simply laid a hand on the young man's arm, quieting Xander
immediately.
Buffy smiled sweetly at her admirer. "Thanks, I can't," she demurred.
"What, you two bitches are too good for us?" demanded punk number one
in a slurred voice.
"No, we're just both here with someone," answered Buffy. She squinted.
"Don't I know you?"
"Yeah, bitch, we're in English 202 together," confirmed punk number
one.
'Bitch' again. Twice in less than thirty seconds. Mulder decided the
boy definitely had a death wish.
"That's not a nice thing to say to a lady," suggested Scully. Mulder
thought Dana was on the verge of shooting both of the kids dead on
the spot.
"What 'lady', *bitch*?" emphasized punk number two. Number one began to
chuckle.
Mulder shot a look at O'Byrne. Duncan started to get up, but stopped
when Buffy waved him off.
"Oh, *you* got a problem, dude?" punk one asked him.
Duncan grinned. Dana noticed that the Scotsman's charm had been stashed
away somewhere. Still, it was probably better if Duncan dealt with
the kids – Jager or Mac would probably kill them. Thinking of which –
why were they sitting so calmly? Something didn't fit.
For his part, Mac was trying to decide what Buffy would let him get
away with. One of her hands was already squeezing his thigh in silent
warning. Still, he had a limit, and she damn well knew it.
"Mark, right?" she asked number one. "Listen, Mark, you guys are drunk.
Why don't you just leave?"
'Mark's' hand was still on Willow's shoulder. He looked Buffy straight
in the eye and very deliberately enunciated, "Fuck you!"
Mac limit was reached right then – just as Buffy released her grip on
his thigh. Disengaging himself from her, the immortal warrior stood
up, reached out, grabbed Mark's throat and jerked him into the air.
With the inebriated young man's feet dangling a good two feet off the
ground as he gasped for breath, Mac started to speak.
"I don't like you. Leave. Right now. Or I will cripple you – right
now."
One of the bouncers suddenly showed up. "There a problem here?" he
demanded.
Mac turned to look at him. The bouncer stepped back. "No, no problem.
Why?" asked Mac cheerfully. The bouncers eyes darted over to Mark,
who was turning purple as Mac strangled him. Mark's feet were still
well clear of the ground.
The bouncer summoned his courage. "I'm going to have to ask you to
leave."
Mac's eye narrowed. 'Do you mean us?" he asked, still in his 'cheerful'
voice. Buffy grimaced.
The bouncer's eyes scanned the assembled group before turning back to
O'Byrne – who was still holding the boy suspended in the air. "Ah,
no. Definitely not you guys, no. *Them*," he said, indicating the two
drunks. Punk number two was backed up against the wall, eyes wide and
abruptly sober.
"Oh," said Mac. "Okay." He released his grip on the boy, Mark, who
immediately dropped to the floor. Mac turned his gaze on the boy
trying to become one with they wall. "Did I stutter?" he asked.
"No, sir," replied the suddenly respectful young man.
"Then why are you still here?"
"I think he is tired of living," suggested Jager.
Mark's friend grabbed the kid on the floor and started hustling away.
Mac's eyes followed them all the way out the door. When they were
gone, he turned to the bouncer.
"Sorry for the trouble, sir," he apologized – still entirely cheerful.
Too much so, in Buffy's estimation. She reached over and tapped his
hip. Mac looked down at her. When he looked back at the bouncer his
face was back in its usual bland mode. "Would you like us to leave?"
"No, that's okay – but no more trouble, okay?"
"No more trouble, Charlie," promised Willow.
The bouncer nodded and left. Mac sat back down. Buffy stared at him for
a long second before finally sighing and giving him a kiss.
"My hero," she teased.
"I'd have let you deal with him, but-" began Mac.
"But nothing," Buffy interrupted him. "Thomas, sit down!" Jager
grimaced and sat back down. Mulder had seen the man start to rise
from his chair. Buffy had obviously made the same guess as Mulder
concerning what the man intended.
"Where was I? Oh, yeah – 'but nothing'," the young woman smiled at her
fiancé. "You're my hero. And we don't have to take anyone to
the hospital this time, either." Buffy wrapped her arms around Mac's
neck and drew him into a deep kiss.
"Duncan?" asked Dana quietly. "Are all of you so strong?"
Mac heard her and looked up before Macleod could answer. "I don't know
about the rest of these guys, but *I* have the strength of ten
because my heart is pure," he pontificated.
Duncan choked back a laugh as Buffy started giggling.
"Actually, Reaper, I think it's more like the strength of thirty,"
joked Jager. "Plus whatever they accumulated."
Scully looked confused, but Mulder grasped the implication immediately.
"Quickenings. He's talking about Quickenings, Dana," he said softly.
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2330, Thursday (Local)
Once back at the Keep, the six of them – Mac, Buffy, Mulder, Dana,
Duncan and Joe – said goodnight and slipped off to bed. Giles and
Jager had separated from them when they left the Bronze, along with
Xander, Oz and Willow.
Joe and Duncan were asleep in each of their rooms in short order.
Dana and Fox – now sharing a room – dressed for bed, but, perhaps
surprisingly, didn't immediately launch themselves at one another.
There were things to discuss.
"Did you *see* the way he jerked that kid into the air?" asked Mulder.
"And kept him hanging there for – how long? A minute?"
"I saw, Fox. Did you pick up on why it took him so long to move?" she
asked.
"It's the nineties, Dana. He didn't want to get in the way while Buffy
asserted herself-"
"Oh, bull," she interrupted. "Trust me, Fox – that wasn't the reason."
"Then what was?" he asked, interested in her take.
"Remember what they told us about being mugged? They didn't really come
out an *say* it, but I guarantee that she ripped him a new one over
that. The *second* those two popped up, Mac was struggling to contain
himself
"He didn't want to upset Buffy," she finished.
"You think she has that much influence on him?" queried her partner.
"Yes, I do. She's probably the only person that does. This isn't some
mutual infatuation, Fox. Hell, I think it's more than just the two of
them being deeply in love," she theorized.
"Love taming the savage beast?"
"No. More than that. Something *deeper*..." Dana's voice trailed away
as she lost herself in thought. "Somehow, she's reached him in a way
I don't think anyone has before. When she did that, she bought him
outright."
"Mutual, you think?"
"Very much so," Dana agreed. "I think those two have been through six
kinds of hell – every bit of it alone. Finding each other... God,
Fox, can you *imagine* what one of them would do if something
happened to the other?"
"I know what *I* want to do," he said suggestively. Dana smiled at the
man and reached out for him.
'Why did we wait so long?' was her last thought before thinking was set
aside.
In their bedroom, Buffy and Mac silently decided to forgo any
discussion until *after*. When *after* finally arrived, they were
wrapped in each other's arms and tangled in the sheets. A light sheen
of perspiration was drying rapidly in the warm breeze coming from the
window.
Buffy's head was pillowed on Mac's chest. He softly stroked her back,
amazed at the vision in his arms.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"For what?" he asked.
Buffy smiled against his chest. "What do you think?" she asked
playfully.
"Oh." He craned his neck to where he could plant a soft kiss on her
forehead. "Thank *you*."
"All part of the service," she replied, eliciting a chuckle from him.
Buffy turned in his arms and propped her chin on his chest so she
could look at his face. 'My god, he's beautiful,' she thought.
Buffy couldn't quite believe the prize she'd won.
"Where have you been all my life?" she teased.
"Looking for you?" he ventured.
Buffy snorted. "In Algeria? Viet Nam? Boy you really *did* search high
and low, didn't ya?"
Mac chuckled again as he moved his hand up from her back to stroke her
hair.
Buffy wrinkled her forehead. "How close to you come to killing those
kids tonight?" she asked.
Mac's eyes grew cold for a moment as he considered her question. After
a few seconds, he refocused on the woman in his arms and the warmth
returned. The look on his face had answered her question.
Buffy arched forward and kissed her man. "I love you, Mac."
Drawing her tight against him, he said, "I love you."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 8
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0700, Friday (Local)
Scully slowly woke up. Mulder's arm was wrapped around her waist, the
two of them spooned. Dana decided after a moment's thought that the
sensation was luxuriously comfortable. What the hell had woken her
up?
The trill of her cell phone answered that question. Cursing under her
breath, she lunged for the phone.
"Scully," she answered. Fox was awake, eyes drinking her in. Dana began
to blush, realizing that the man beside her was being treated to a
view of her naked from the waste up.
"*Agent Scully, this Detective Palmer, LAPD,*" announced the voice on
the phone.
"Yes, Detective. What have you got for me?" Dana asked as she tried to
cover herself with the sheet.
"*Unfortunately, not much. We found a couple of partial prints that our
killer missed during his wipe down of the car, and we're having them
analyzed. But, hell, they may turn out to belong to that poor bastard
in 'Frisco*," Palmer reported. Fox dragged the sheet from her hand. And
kept dragging, exposing more of her. Dana slapped at his hand.
"Damn it. No other leads?" she asked. Fox had grabbed her hand and
started sucking and nibbling on her fingers.
"*Afraid not. Have you got anything?*"
Fox moved his mouth to her breast, keeping her hand trapped. Dana
struggled to keep her voice steady.
"Not yet. We-" Dana drew her breath in sharply as Fox nibbled on her.
"We'll keep looking."
"*Right. Later.*" The L.A. detective hung up.
Dana thumbed off the phone and dropped it to the floor. With her now
empty hand, she grasped Fox by his hair and pulled him away from her.
"Fox..." she threatened.
He gazed up at her. "What?" he asked.
"It'll keep," she said, and moved his head back to her breaSt.
Buffy, Mac and Duncan finished their run and walked into the living
room. They each stopped long enough to grab a cup of coffee and
headed out back to the training pit. Duncan led them through a series
of katas for a while, before pulling Buffy onto the grass for a little
one-on-one unarmed combat training.
Joe brought a thermos of coffee outside and shared it with Mac while
they watched the Slayer spar with the Highlander.
'Damn – we do all have cool names,' mused Mac, thinking back to
Mitchell's comment. 'Maybe Mitchell could've used one.'
Seeing the wry grin on Mac's face, Joe asked, "What?"
"Nothing, Joe," replied the immortal. "Just admiring my girl."
Buffy was certainly giving Macleod a run for his money, Dawson noted.
Give the woman a few more years of practice...
At eight-thirty, Buffy signaled a halt. "I've got to get to school,
Duncan. Two classes on Fridays."
As she walked past her fiancé, she grinned and turned back to
Macleod. "How 'bout giving my honey a little exercise?" she called.
"He's looking a little peaked."
Joe and Duncan laughed as Mac stood up and gave Buffy a playful swat on
her rump. She giggled and kissed him quickly before darting into the
house.
As Mac walked over to him, Duncan observed, "That girl is going to be
the end of you, Mac."
"Maybe," agreed O'Byrne. "But what a way to go."
As Buffy trotted up the stairs, Mulder was heading down. She told him
the guys were all out back and raced into her bedroom.
Mulder continued on down and outside. The two immortals were attacking
one another with great gusto. Joe handed him a cup of coffee as he
sat down to observe the warriors at practice.
Mixing styles with each move, O'Byrne and Macleod danced a freewheeling
ballet of death. Locking and breaking holds, occasionally managing to
toss their opponent to the ground, the immortals were pulling no
punches – Mulder heard the occasional snap of a breaking bone. After a
little consideration, he thought he understood why.
As warriors, they had to be able to fight on despite injury, despite
pain. Knowing that they wouldn't seriously hurt one another, the two
warriors were literally trying to kill each other.
It went on for quite a while, too.
Buffy popped outside long enough to give Joe a quick hug and took off
for school. Scully came out with a cup of coffee and sat down to
watch the show.
At one point, Macleod managed to dislocate O'Byrne's arm and break his
elbow. Mulder would have thought that would stop the fight – at least
for a moment. Instead, O'Byrne managed some kind of complicated twist
that ended in a palm strike that hurled Macleod away from him. Grabbing
his own broken arm, O'Byrne wrenched the injured elbow back into
alignment.
Macleod charged back into the fray, earning a kick into his face of
sufficient force to somersault him backward.
O'Byrne set his feet, gritted his teeth and somehow jerked his
dislocated shoulder back into place, just as Macleod swept his feet
out from beneath him.
The match ended with Macleod stopping his own palm strike to O'Byrne's
face just an inch short of his nose. Dana knew that blow would have
driven bone shards into Mac's brain. Apparently the immortals knew it
as well – despite appearing to be lost in the heat of combat, both men
had known exactly how far to push and when to stop.
Mac gazed up at Duncan. "Luck," he said.
"Maybe," allowed Duncan with a grin. "But you're still dead."
O'Byrne smiled and held up his hand. Macleod seized it and pulled his
friend to his feet. The warriors bowed to one another.
Approaching the coffee klatch, Mac observed, "I'm hungry. Let's eat."
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
Sunnydale Community College
1505, Friday (Local)
Finished for the day, Buffy was enroute back to her car when she felt
the presence of another immortal. She looked around, trying to spot
Mac.
Instead, she saw a man leaning against her car, looking surprised.
No, not a *man*. Polovsky. Buffy recognized him from a photo Joe had
produced for her and her friends. 'Good god!' thought Polovsky.
'O'Byrne's woman is an immortal. Well, well.'
Buffy started to pull out her phone but stopped when Polovsky opened
his coat enough to reveal his gun.
"No trouble, now, dear. No sense dying before giving your boyfriend a
chance to rescue you, now is there?"
Startling Polovsky to no end, Buffy leaped to her right, landing
between a pair of cars. Pulling out her phone as she scuttled for
safety, she hit speed dial and started praying.
"Hello?" answered Mac after two rings.
"Mac! He's here!" she cried.
"Where are you?" demanded Reaper. '*Definitely* Reaper,' ran through
Buffy's mind.
"School parking lot," she informed him.
"Can you get to the church on Grove?"
Buffy was already running, threading her way through cars as she went.
As the silenced bullet shattered her spine, she fell to the ground.
"Buffy? Buffy, are you there?" demanded Mac. Buffy tried to answer, but
couldn't.
Polovsky was suddenly standing over her. The immortal pumped another
three rounds into Buffy's twitching body. Her last that before she
died was of Mac.
"BUFFY!" screamed O'Byrne into the phone. Surrounding him, two federal
agents, two Watchers and his fellow immortal stood silent.
"*No need to shout 'Reaper',*" answered a voice on the phone in Mac's
hand. "*Wouldn't do any good anyway. I'm afraid your woman is dead.
Well, for the moment anyway. I imagine she'll be back soon.*"
Reaper stood and listened as the voice taunted him. Inside, the rage
was quelled as all emotion died. Not one shred of humanity was left
in the man. All was calm. Reaper was the center of a vast pool of
nothingness. No emotion. No sentiment. No fear.
"Polovsky?" he asked in a flat, dead voice.
"*Why, yes. I have something you want, now. How about a trade?*"
"When and where?" that deathly calm voice asked again.
"*I'll be in touch.*" The line went dead.
Mulder watched O'Byrne calmly hang up the phone and walk out of the
room. Everyone jumped up and followed as he went upstairs. Once he
reached his room, O'Byrne stripped and walked into the shower.
"Mac..." Duncan started. The older immortal's voice trailed away as
O'Byrne stopped and turned around.
"Hunter," he said calmly. "Get dressed. Give Duncan some clothes. We're
going to work."
Finished with his instructions, O'Byrne took his shower.
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1630, Friday (Local)
They were all gathered in O'Byrne's office, Jager hunched over the
computer. Macleod, Hunter and Reaper were dressed much alike. Loose
clothes, long coats. The two legionnaires were armed for bear,
equipped with pistols, shotguns, knives and stun and thermite grenades.
The Highlander had a pistol and his sword. In addition, Jager was
armed with the .50 sniper rifle.
"Here's the play," instructed Reaper crisply and calmly. "Polovsky will
feel another immortal coming, so, Highlander, you're the reserve. If
Polovsky takes me, you take him. If you're worried about the Dark
Quickening, shoot him, bind him, encase him in cement and drop him in
the middle of the ocean. But *stop* him.
"If I win, determine if *I'm* suffering from the Dark Quickening. Do
what you need to do. Hunter," continued O'Byrne. "Priority one is to
retrieve the Slayer. That mission is yours. Utilize whatever means
are necessary. My safety is not a concern. Clear?"
Jager nodded. Watchers were forbidden to interfere in any fight between
immortals – but Reaper was a brother of the Legion. The Slayer was in
danger. And Polovsky was in bad need of being killed. 'Fuck the
Watchers,' he decided.
"The rest of you can not help with this. End of story," Reaper stated
flatly.
"Any questions?" Reaper looked around at his allies.
"How do you find her?" asked Mulder.
"Buffy's phone has a locator chip in it," answered Jager. "It's the
latest thing – intended to dissuade cell phone thefts."
Mulder remembered the Lone Gunmen telling him about that. They were
convinced it was so the government could track its citizens.
"A gimmick, but just now a useful one," put in O'Byrne. He turned to
Jager. "Have they stopped moving yet?"
Jager studied the monitor for several seconds. "Yes. I have their
location."
O'Byrne exchanged the battery on his own cell phone, then picked up the
phone on his desk and punched in a series of numbers. Setting the
phone back in it's cradle, he looked up.
"If he calls, it will forward to my cell. Stay off the line," he
instructed Dawson and the two agents. He turned to Jager. "Hunter,
radios."
Jager stood and passed a radio to Macleod. Then he pointed to Dawson,
asking, "Remember how to hook up the rig?"
The Watcher nodded.
"Don't call us," instructed Reaper. "I'll check back to make sure their
location hasn't changed before we strike the target. Scully, can you
operate the locator program?"
"It is set to track automatically," Jager informed her.
Scully look at the window on the computer screen, studied it for a
moment, then looked up and nodded. "Yes."
Reaper looked around. "No matter what, Polovsky dies tonight," he said
in that same eerily flat, dead voice.
Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Jager and
Macleod were right behind him.
"What do you think, Joe?" Dana asked once the immortals had driven
away.
"I think I've read his file," answered the Watcher. "Believe me, it
doesn't do him justice."
"What do you mean?" asked Mulder.
"Well... What do you know about him?" Dawson temporized.
"We know about his military background," Dana ventured. "Buffy told me
a little about him."
"Did she mention he was a POW in 'Nam?"
"What?!"
Mulder looked as shocked as Scully sounded. Every story about every
'crazy vet' returning from the war danced through his head.
"Yeah," continued Dawson. "For about a month at the end of the Tet
Offensive. Then he escaped. Took him another month to make it back to
US forces. There are reports that he stalked and killed more than a
hundred NVA and VC troops on his way back. When he got back, his C.O.
put him in for a Distinguished Service Cross.
"Some pencil pusher had it downgraded to a Silver Star – his first of
several. Didn't matter to 'The Reaper', though. Only time he ever
wore his awards was when ordered to."
The two federal agents stared at Dawson as he continued to share what
he knew about the men out hunting for their comrade – and beyond
being the love of O'Byrne's life, their comrade she surely was.
"Before and since, O'Byrne's been fighting one war or another.
"Thomas spent ten years in the Legion. Been everywhere from Beirut to
Baghdad. And he's spent most of the nineties dogging after Mac. He's
had to kill over a dozen men just to stay alive as he followed his
assignment. And Mac never even knew he was there – which, when you
think about it, is pretty slick in itself.
"Macleod... Well, Duncan's fought in one war after another himself.
Back in World War II, he was part of the French resistance, worked
for the British SOE and was part of the plot to kill Hitler in '44.
"What do I think?" finished Joe. "I think Polovsky is going to die
tonight. God alone have mercy on the bastard if Buffy's dead –
because then *Reaper* won't settle for his head."
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
1002 Johnston Ave.
2030, Friday (Local)
Hunter was in his element. The veteran slipped from shadow to shadow as
he circumnavigated the condemned building. He'd been here before,
hunting vampires, so he was familiar with the layout. That did
nothing to mute the caution he exercised during his stalk. At one point
or another he froze, almost preternaturally aware of everything
around him.
As the late spring sun had sunk low over the horizon, he'd moved into
position. Taking well over an hour, he was finally sliding into the
roost he'd selected for himself high up in the warehouse. It was one
of several points where he'd thought he might have a good shot at his
target.
Sure enough – there the bastard was, sitting on a crate and examining
Buffy. Hunter examined the immortal through the scope on his rifle.
Tempted to scan Buffy, to check her for signs of life, he disciplined
himself to concentrate on the target. He couldn't help noticing she
still had her head – given that much, the woman would heal.
He sighted in on Polovsky. Once he confirmed that it *was* him sitting
there, Hunter focused the cross hairs on the center of his target's
mass and began his breathing rhythm. Even if the target was wearing
body armor, it wouldn't matter. The round would eviscerate the target
on impact.
Set and centered, Hunter began to squeeze the trigger.
Completely unaware that he was centered in the sights of the sniper
overhead, Polovsky focused on the girl. She was gorgeous, truly a
remarkable catch. The fear in her eyes as she stared at him from
where she lay bound and gagged on the floor was delicious. Once he'd
dealt with O'Byrne, it would be pleasant to-
No. He was going to have to simply kill her and be gone. With luck,
O'Byrne would come alone. The Rules of their Game demanded all combat
be one-on-one.
Of course, *Reaper* might not follow those rules... But Macleod would.
And Polovsky was reasonably sure that he could take either of the
immortals – after all, he had the girl for leverage. He considered
that for bit as he fondled the girl's phone.
When should he call?
He decided to let O'Byrne hang for a bit longer – the stress would eat
at the man. Meantime, Polovsky figured he should get some rest. He
stretched and began to rise just as a tremendous explosion sounded.
He was punched in the gut and hurled across the floor by an absolutely
stunning impact.
"*Scheisse*!" hissed Hunter. The bastard had moved just as Hunter let
the round loose. What was it Deblout had said? – The bastard had
luck? Damn straight.
He kept the rifle sighted on Polovsky as he carefully picked up his
radio. Reaper was waiting for his call.
"*Reaper, Hunter. Go*!" he hissed in French. He knew that his Brother
was charging in at that moment. Still he kept his scope centered on
Polovsky.
Who twitched.
Polovsky felt the approach of another immortal. That bastard! O'Byrne
had broken the Rules – not just with the gun, but by using a *mortal*
to shoot him! And Polovsky knew *exactly* who that mortal had to be –
the soldier he'd observed the day before. Sheer luck he'd moved when he
had. Undoubtedly that shot was intended to hollow out his chest,
making him an easy kill.
But how in hell had O'Byrne found him? Of course! That damned girl must
be wearing a locator of some kind. That god damned O'Byrne had staked
his woman out as a Judas Goat!
Polovsky felt compelled to admire his opponent's ruthlessness.
As the healing began, Polovsky slowly closed his hand around his gun.
Reaper was moving the second Hunter's call came in, Macleod close on
his heels. In moments, they were inside the warehouse. In less than a
minute they were standing over Polovsky.
Seeing his partners arrive and move to the target, Hunter quickly
swarmed down a series of ladders to the ground floor. He raced
straight to Buffy, heaved her up over his shoulder and started out of
the building.
Behind him, the immortals waited for the target to revive.
"Not fair, Reaper," wheezed Polovsky. "You used a mortal."
"Stand up when you're ready, Polovsky," instructed Reaper in that flat
voice. "Take your time. I've got the rest of your life."
-----------------------------------------
Part 9
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
1002 Johnston Ave.
2045, Friday (Local)
Once outside the warehouse, Hunter set down his burden. Taking out a
knife, he carefully cut the gag from Buffy's mouth.
"Are you all right, Buffy?" he asked.
"Mac?" she demanded.
"Inside. Dealing with Polovsky," he informed her as he set to work on
her bindings.
Buffy started shaking her head. "But, the Dark Quickening-"
Jager understood her concerns all too well. "The Highlander has a
pistol. If it turns Reaper, Macleod will kill him. Then we'll figure
out how to cure him."
The last of the rope was cut away. The Watcher helped Buffy to her
feet. She started massaging the feeling back into her arms as Jager
kept a hand on her shoulder to steady the young woman.
"Who knows what's happened?" Buffy asked as she worked to get the kinks
out.
"Just Scully, Mulder, Dawson, and Macleod. There was no time and no
point in telling anyone else," he answered. "We had to scramble to
rescue you."
Buffy cringed.
"Don't take it badly, Buffy. Those two men in there have needed
rescuing a time or two themselves," he tried to reassure her.
It was exactly the wrong thing to say. It snapped the Slayer out of her
shock and let her focus on the single most important thing in the
world at that moment in time. Her man was in that building playing
Russian Roulette, spinning the cylinder on a pistol with three bullets
in it – Polovsky and his sword, the risk of the Dark Quickening...
And the gun Polovsky had killed her with.
Buffy started to race back inside just as the shots rang out.
"Stand up when you're ready, Polovsky," instructed Reaper in that flat
voice. "Take your time. I've got the rest of your life."
The wounded immortal groaned. The pain radiating from the wound the .50
sniper rifle had inflicted on him was excruciating. Still, Polovsky
managed to quietly reach for the pistol in his coat pocket.
"Two on one, Reaper?" he demanded. "The Rules truly mean nothing to
you, do they?" he accused.
"That's rich, coming from you, Polovsky," Macleod derided him.
"Don't worry, Polovsky. I know the Rules," answered Reaper. Polovsky
began to notice O'Byrne's voice. It had a dead quality to it that was
truly frightening to behold. Thanks in part to the power of Mac
Cuhil's Quickening, Polovsky was already healed.
But he continued to huddle on the ground, waiting for his opportunity.
"We'll have a fair fight," continued the Reaper. "Then you'll die."
Polovsky rolled over. The pistol in his hand fired.
Not even Mackenzie O'Byrne was faster than a speeding bullet. He *was*
fast enough – barely – to turn slightly, causing the bullets intended
for his heart to catch him in the side. The impact of the three
rounds punched him hard, hurling him down to the ground and across the
floor, his sword skittering away.
Quick as a snake, Polovsky turned and emptied the rest of the clip into
Macleod, who had whipped his sword up and was striking down at him in
a powerful overhead stroke. The Highlander staggered back, sword
flying from his grasp. The immortal hit the floor, dead on impact.
Polovsky rolled to his feet and pulled out his sword. Seeing O'Byrne
struggling back up and reaching for his own blade, Polovsky turned
and fled.
He reached the door just as O'Byrne's woman ran in. Barely noticing the
'buzz' that had signaled her approach, Buffy sensing all three of the
men inside, neither had time to prepare. The two immortals slammed
into one another. Polovsky's superior mass carried them back outside.
Behind them, O'Byrne staggered to his feet and took off in pursuit. He
reached the door to find Polovsky struggling with Hunter, who'd
smashed the stock of his rifle against the ribs of the powerful
immortal.
Polovsky swiped at the Watcher with his sword, slicing the man open
from his groin to his neck. As Hunter collapsed to the ground,
Polovsky whirled on Buffy. She kicked him in the face and retreated
toward a small clump of trees some idiot designer had decided would be
enough greenery to make up for the ugliness of the warehouse.
Polovsky charged, raising his sword to take her head.
Reaper dropped his sword and grabbed his shotgun. He brought the bead
up fast. Maybe the immortal had never drawn so fast in his entire
sixty years of life. On pure instinct, he sighted and fired. Earlier
– owing to Polovsky's damnable, uncanny luck – Hunter had essentially
missed his target.
Reaper didn't.
Buffy heard the roar of a shotgun and felt a splash of blood as
Polovsky's chest exploded over her. The explosive slugs Reaper had
loaded the shotgun with hollowed out the immortal. Bits of his heart,
lungs, liver and intestines washed over Buffy as Polovsky's blood and
viscera sprayed through the air.
Polovsky was hurtled forward in pursuit of his missing parts by the
blast. His sword fell to the ground as the immortal collapsed at
Buffy's feet.
Reaper picked up his sword and raced to his fallen enemy. He jerked his
pistol from its holster and handed to Buffy. "See to Hunter," he
ordered.
Buffy started toward the injured Watcher, but saw Reaper raise his
sword to finish off Polovsky.
"Mac!" she cried out. "The Rules-"
"Fuck the Rules," Reaper cut her off. He brought his sword down and
took Polovsky's head.
Scene 2
Sunnydale, Ca.
1002 Johnston Ave.
2100, Friday (Local)
The mist from Polovsky's ruined corpse writhed out and settled over
Reaper. The lightning began to dance. A stray shot of it hit Buffy
and hurled the Slayer back ten feet through the air. She thudded onto
the ground near Jager.
Knowing there was nothing she could do for her man, Buffy wrenched her
eyes off the spectacle and focused on Jager. The Watcher was hurt
badly, but she thought he'd make it if they could get him to a
hospital in time. She ripped off her shirt and pressed it to the deep
slice in his chest. The Watcher was oblivious.
All of Thomas Jager's attention was focused on his friend. Reaper was
suffering through the most powerful Quickening the Watcher had ever
witnessed.
Thick, powerful bolts of lightening shot out in all directions,
crawling over every nearby surface. The trees were set on fire. One,
then two of them exploded. The windows high overhead shattered and
rained glass over everything. Buffy huddled over the Watcher to protect
him from the flying debris. Glass sliced open her back. She couldn't
cry out, because the air was sucked from her lungs.
The air was so thick with static electricity that Buffy's air stood out
in a halo around her head as sparks jumped back and forth between her
and Thomas.
Behind her, Mac was screaming in tongues. The pain in his voice tore at
her heart.
'Please, god, oh please don't let it turn him,' Buffy prayed.
Rather than diminish, the Quickening continued to mount in force, as
the combined power of the Quickenings of the tens of immortals
Polovsky had slain tore into and through O'Byrne. Finally a sonic
boom rent the air.
And all was silence.
Buffy turned to look at the man she loved. He was strewn on the ground
like so much garbage. She wanted to go to him, tried to, but Jager
grasped her arm.
"Wait," croaked the Watcher. "Ready your pistol."
It was two long minutes before the body stirred. Buffy could hear
sirens in the distance as the immortal climbed to his feet.
"Mac..." Buffy called softly. Was he still Mac? Or had the Quickening
been dark? Had it turned him into another Polovsky?
Had she just lost him just as she'd once lost Angel?
The immortal stumbled. He started to reach out to his sword, then
stopped. His head whipped around and focused on Buffy. He stared at
her for a long moment, then strode toward her with increasing
strength. Buffy clenched the pistol tight in her hand.
Mac collapsed on his knees beside her and looked into her eyes.
"Mac?" she asked.
He gave her a weak grin. "Still me, honey," he answered. Buffy wondered
how she could be sure. Mac's hands reached past her and gently probed
Jager's wound. "Can you walk, Hunter? We need to get gone."
Jager gave him a weak grin. "I'll manage."
"Get Buffy to the truck, Brother," Mac instructed. He leaned over a few
inches and kissed Buffy tenderly. "Get out of here, sweetie. Take
Hunter back to the Keep."
"The Keep? Not a hospital?" she asked.
"Dana's an MD, remember? Better than a hospital. No waiting."
"What about you?"
"Duncan's down. I need to get him out of here." Mac stood, dragging
Jager to his feet. "Get going," he ordered.
Following Thomas' directions, Buffy helped him stagger away.
Mac walked over to Polovsky's corpse. He looked down at the ruined
monster for a moment, allowing himself one precious second of
satisfaction.
"It's done, Finn," he told the memory of his friend and teacher. Then
he bent over and retrieved the swords. Leaving the body behind, he
turned and started to walk away. Having a thought, he turned back and
quickly searched through the dead immortals pockets. He found
Polovsky's wallet and Buffy's phone. Setting a couple of his stun
grenades inside what was left of Polovsky's chest, he grabbed the
head and set it in the cavity before carefully balanced a thermite
grenade on top and pulling the pin.
As he walked away, the thermite activated, setting off the stun
grenades, blowing what was left was left of the immortal to pieces
and incinerating the bits. Let some cop figure *that* one out!
Inside the warehouse, he picked up Duncan's Katana and Buffy's sword
from where Polovsky had tossed it before the other immortals'
arrival. Finally, he heaved the temporarily dead immortal over his
shoulder. Then he walked out into the night and put space between him
and the mess he'd left behind.
He walked close to a mile before he felt life beginning to return to
his friend. Sitting the awakening immortal down he groaned with
relief.
"Well *that* took long enough. You know, you're one heavy bastard,
Duncan."
Macleods eyes fluttered open as he gasped, sucking in his first breath
in almost an hour. He eyed Mac suspiciously. "What happened?" he
demanded.
"You died."
"No kidding?" replied Duncan sarcastically. "*Then* what happened?"
"I executed Polovsky. After I blew his chest apart with an explosive
shell." Mac grimaced. "Please don't give me any crap about it. The
bastard had taken out Hunter and was trying for Buffy's head."
Macleod's eyes grew wide. "Is Thomas..."
"Christ, I hope so. I told Buffy to take him to Dana – she's an MD. I
needed to cover up the mess I made of Polovsky and drag your heavy
ass out of there. Sirens were closing in as you and I departed,"
reported Mac.
Duncan felt for his sword.
"Looking for this?" asked Mac, holding up Duncan's Katana. "Don't get
in a huff, Duncan," he scolded as he watched the Highlander's eyes
narrow with suspicion. "I didn't want it poking me as I carried you.
And I *really* didn't want you deciding I'd gone over to the dark side
and trying to kill me. Here," finished, handing over the sword.
"Can we go home now? What I mean is, are you done with your beauty
sleep? I'm tired, I'm hungry and I'm worn out from carrying you all
over the place," Mac complained with a grin.
Duncan rolled his eyes.
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
2330, Friday (Local)
Buffy had gotten Thomas back to the Keep. Dana had immediately gone to
work on the wounded Watcher. Using medical supplies that Mac kept on
hand, she cleaned, stitched and dressed his wounds. Loading him up on
Tylenol with codeine, Dana finally had Buffy and Mulder help her carry
him to the couch. Dana really wanted him in a bed, but the wounded
Watcher had no intention of moving until his friends returned.
Buffy had grabbed Dana and dragged her upstairs to the bathroom. It
took some convincing, but she finally got Dana to agree to take the
bullets out of her. Dana had agreed only because she believed Buffy
when the young woman said she carve them out herself if Dana wouldn't
help her.
"I don't want to be setting off metal detectors everywhere I go, Dana,"
explained Buffy. One painful hour later, the young woman was free of
Polovsky's bullets. The experience left Dana shaken. Buffy had had to
guide her as the doctor searched the fragments out without benefit of
any x-ray to guide her effort.
Buffy and she had showered and dressed before coming back downstairs,
both of them pale. Buffy was curing that by drinking lots of fluids
as her body worked overtime to rapidly replace the blood she'd loSt.
Dana had a stiff drink. Then she had another.
The five of them sat and waited for their friends to come back. Dana
kept a close eye on Thomas, watching for complications. The Watcher
had finally drifted off to sleep.
Right around eleven-thirty, Buffy leaped to her feet and raced to the
door. She flung it open and ran outside.
Chasing after the young woman, Dawson and the two agents stopped when
they got to the door. Buffy had her arms and legs wrapped around Mac
and was kissing him passionately. Duncan looked at them a moment,
then slipped by the lovers and trudged up the stairs to be warmly
welcomed back.
Scene 4
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
0130, Saturday (Local)
Buffy snuggled in Mac's lap, half asleep. He held her tightly, his face
resting on her head. Duncan and Joe sat in the other two chairs,
while Dana leaned back into Mulder on the love seat, their feet
resting on the coffee table. Jager was drifting in and out of sleep on
the couch.
Buffy had explained how Polovsky had shot her down, right in the
parking lot, and how the immortal had taunted her with what he
planned to do to her – *with* her – after he killed Mac. Mac, Duncan
and Thomas had filled in the pieces of the story surrounding her
rescue.
Dawson quietly wondered how much of this should find its way into the
Watcher journals. If the truth about Jager's role came out, *Thomas*
would be on trial for his life, just as Dawson had once been – and
Joe had no doubts whatsoever how O'Byrne would respond to *that*. No,
this story was going to stay secret for a long, long time. It had to.
Mulder and Scully had been wondering how to explain this officially.
The families of Polovsky's victims deserved to know that the murderer
was dead. That'd keep for now. Maybe when they weren't all so
tired...
At one-thirty in the morning, Mac asked Dana whether or not they should
move Jager. Deciding it was better if the injured man was actually in
a bed, she'd said yes.
Mac patted Buffy's hip and had her get up. As Mac and Duncan carefully
moved the Watcher – under Dana's critical supervision – the rest of
them began stumbling off to bed.
Buffy took Mac gently by the hand and led him to the bathroom. First
she turned on the shower, then stripped off his clothes. She took off
her own and guided the other immortal into the shower. After the two
of them were clean, they dried off and Buffy led her man to bed.
When Buffy slipped on a T-shirt, Mac understood that she intended for
them to sleep. Barely able to keep his own eyes open, he didn't
really mind.
She crawled into bed with him, slipped into his arms and lay her head
down on his chest. Mac draped his left arm over her back while his
right hand stroked Buffy's face. Mac realized she was already asleep.
In another moment, so was he.
Dana still had the shakes as she described what she'd done for Buffy.
Mulder sat, listening quietly.
When she finished, Mulder shook his head. "Well, she had a point,
Dana."
"Fox, I had no x-ray, no anesthetic, no proper instruments – I used a
knife and a pair of needle-nose pliers!" she expounded.
"She's all right, though, right?"
"That's not the *point*, Fox."
"They're really something, aren't they?" Mulder asked, hoping to
discuss some less gruesome aspect of their hosts. "From what Buffy
and Jager said, Polovsky's Quickening made the fireworks the other
night look like a sparkler."
Dana nodded her head. "Can you imagine what it must have been like for
her, Fox? Having to sit through that with a gun in her hand, waiting
to see if Mac was still *Mac*?" she asked, looking pale. "Waiting to
see if he'd try to kill *her*?"
"He took a big risk," agreed Mulder. "Of course. He didn't really have
much choice."
"He could have gone along with Buffy's suggestion. It was exactly what
he recommended to Duncan."
"I mean that *Mackenzie O'Byrne* didn't have much choice, Dana," Mulder
elaborated.
"You mean, you think he's that driven by hate? Blood lust?"
"I think he's a warrior from the old school," he explained. "I don't
think letting an enemy live is ever really an option for him."
The two partners looked at each other. Something between them silently
went 'click'.
In a moment, clothes were flying.
------------------------------------------
Part 10
Scene 1
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St
1000, Saturday (Local)
Buffy woke up feeling Mac gently stroke her back. She tightened the arm
she had draped across his stomach. The two of them had slept almost
nine straight hours without moving at all.
After a while, Mac noticed she'd awaken. He slipped out of her arms and
padded quietly into the bathroom. In a moment, Buffy heard the sound
of the garden tub being filled. She gazed at her fiancé as he
reappeared at the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face. Then Mac
turned and walked back to her.
Pulling the young woman up, he slipped her T-shirt over her head. Mac
bent down and slipped off Buffy's panties. Then he stood and picked
her up. Cradling his lover in his arms, Mac carried her to the bath.
He stepped into the tub and sat them down. Positioning Buffy between
his legs with her back to him, the man reached around her and cut off
the water.
Sitting in the large tub of bubbles, Mac picked up a bar of soap and
began washing his woman. Finishing that, he reached out and picked up
a bottle of shampoo and proceeded to wash Buffy's hair.
Through it all, neither of them said a thing. Her chest nearly bursting
with warmth, Buffy just enjoyed the attentions of her lover. Once
he'd rinsed her hair with a pitcher of warm water, Buffy climbed out
of the tub. Quickly brushing her teeth, she grabbed Mac's shaving gear
and moved back to the bath.
Sitting on the edge, she draped her legs over Mac's shoulders an leaned
his head back against her belly beneath her breasts. Buffy lathered
her man's face and carefully shaved him. Finished, she wiped the left
over shaving cream from his face with a wash cloth.
Finally, Buffy bent down and kissed him.
The woman stood up, turned around and settled her self in Mac's lap. He
leaned forward so she could wrap he legs around him.
Still, the lovers remained silent.
As they began to make love, Buffy decided that this was something they
had to do again. It was, hands down, the single most erotic thing she
had ever experienced.
Dana woke up and checked on Thomas as Mulder made use of the shower in
the hall bathroom. The Watcher had been lucky – Polovsky's blade
should have eviscerated him. Instead, it had only sliced him open to
his ribs and the lair of subcutaneous fat. While he needed to take it
easy for a few weeks, he could move around.
Making Mulder help the injured man downstairs, she made use of the
shower herself before joining the slowly assembling group on the main
floor.
Joe and Duncan were up. Duncan had already made reservations for the
two men to fly back to Seattle that afternoon. When Dana asked him
why, he'd explained that Buffy and Mac had had a rough week and
needed some time to themselves. Dana had to agree that the immortal had
a point.
Joe called Giles and told him he ought to put in appearance. Duncan
fixed breakfast. He was serving it when Buffy's Watcher arrived.
Alarmed at Jager's condition and outraged that he hadn't been called
when Buffy was kidnapped, the group worked to settle him down.
"There was no *time*, Rupert," asserted Jager. "The minute we got the
call, Reaper had us all scrambling. Besides, what could you do? Wait
and worry?"
Giles was hardly mollified. "Where is she now?" he demanded.
"Where's who, Giles?" asked Buffy as she slid quietly into the kitchen.
Giles was instantly on his feet and embracing the young woman. "Are you
all right, Buffy?" he demanded worriedly.
She grinned at him. "Of course I'm all right, Giles. Sir Gallahad and
the knights of the wickedly round table charged in to save the day."
"King *Arthur*," Giles automatically corrected, causing Buffy's smile
to widen. Realizing that that had been her intention – distracting
him – Giles sighed.
"So Polovsky is dead, then?" he asked.
"*Way* dead," confirmed Buffy. "Mac made a mess of him."
"A mess?" Giles asked.
Buffy grimaced. Jager jumped in. "The Slayer's mate rendered him into
many unidentifiable pieces."
The 'Slayers mate' reference caused Giles to venture a small smile.
Stupid of him, really, to expect Mackenzie to care about anything
that didn't contribute to Buffy's rescue, he knew.
Mac was fetching cups of coffee for Buffy and himself while this was
going on.
"Any thoughts on how to get away with reporting Polovsky's demise?" he
asked Mulder and Scully. "The families of his victims deserve to now
that their loved ones have been avenged, I think."
Dana smiled at the immortal. 'Of course,' she decided. 'Buffy's safe.
He can afford to be human now.'
"I thought we'd wait to see how the Sunnydale PD treated it," offered
Mulder. "Assuming they're creative enough, Dana and I can come up
with some way to connect their explanation to the Bay Area killer."
Mac nodded thoughtfully. Mulder was one devious bastard, he decided.
Imagine using the creative incompetence of the local constabulary to
finish this up!
"Sounds good," the immortal agreed. He turned to his friends from
Seattle. "Well guys, you gonna stick around a while? You're more than
welcome."
Duncan and Joe both shook their heads.
"We'll fly back today. You two deserve a little quality time alone,"
observed Duncan.
"We'll be back for the wedding, though," added Joe. Duncan nodded his
agreement. "When is it going to be?"
Mac looked at Buffy.
"June," she answered. "I always wanted to be a June bride."
Joe smiled. "Then I guess we'll be seeing you guys in a couple of
months," he replied.
"Is that enough time to plan, Buffy?" asked Dana. "Weddings are a lot
of work, you know."
"Well, I don't want to wait until next year," answered Buffy. "Besides,
with Mom helping it'll be long enough."
"A big wedding?" Duncan asked.
Buffy smiled. "Yeah. But simple," she added hastily, seeing the look on
Mac's face. "*Way* simple."
Their friends all laughed.
Scene 2
L.A., Ca.
Los Angeles International Airport
1530, Saturday (Local)
With Mulder and Dana off coordinating between the LAPD and Sunnydale's
police department, and Thomas resting at the Keep under Giles'
supervision, Buffy and Mac took Duncan and Joe to the airport.
The friends all warmly embraced one another as they said their
farewells. Eliciting a final promise from the young couple concerning
invitations to the wedding, the Seattleites boarded their plane.
Buffy leaned against Mac, the two of them arm in arm, as their friends
departed.
Once the plane lifted off, the affianced couple started back to their
car, Buffy chatting busily about all the things they needed to do to
be ready in time for June.
"June's okay with you isn't it sweetie?" she interrupted herself to
ask.
"*Tomorrow's* okay with me, Buffy," Mac assured her. "Where do you want
to go on our honeymoon?"
"Somewhere where there's no one but us," she informed him.
"Okay," he agreed. "Sounds good."
"But with room service," she amended.
Mac looked at the beautiful young woman on his arm and smiled.
"Somewhere where there's no one but us, but with room service," he
echoed. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."
Mulder and Scully were at that moment in conference with the Sunnydale
PD Chief, one of his detectives, Sunnydale's Mayor and two Los
Angeles detectives.
"What makes you so sure that this guy was our killer?" one of the LAPD
detectives demanded of Mulder. "There isn't enough of him left in one
piece to fill a doggie bag, much less identify!"
"The corpse had the knife we think was used on the Bay Area women,"
pointed out Mulder. "And the keys to the car stolen from L.A. earlier
this week."
"That car was parked a block away. Prints in it and on the keys will,
we think, match the partials pulled from the car stolen in San
Francisco," added Scully.
"If, will, we think," echoed the Detective Palmer disgustedly. "Even if
all that turns out to be true, how do we know that pizza boy is the
guy in question? There's still the little matter of finding enough of
him to ID."
"And who in hell did that number on him?" the other L.A. detective
wanted to know. "And where is *he*?"
"Gang-bangers," inserted the Chief. "We have a big drug and gang
problem down here."
The two L.A. detectives and the two federal agents shot him a
disbelieving look.
"I suppose that's possible..." allowed Mulder. 'Idiot,' he thought.
The Mayor silently echoed that sentiment. Attention from outside they
didn't need. Well, at least the two feds hadn't said anything about
vampires.
"Check the prints, guys. Then we'll see where we are," advised Mulder.
"But-" began Palmer.
"Given the brutality of 'pizza boy's' execution, one might wonder if
*someone* decided to go after a cop-killer," speculated Scully.
That suggestion brought the men from L.A. up short.
"Are you suggesting a *cop* did this?" Palmer demanded coldly.
"What we're *suggesting*, Detective," said Mulder, " is that we have a
strong suspicion that 'pizza boy' is our serial killer."
The visiting detectives shared a look. The feds' meaning was clear.
They had some kind of personal knowledge that the corpse *was* the
killer, that a *cop* had killed him and they were willing to let it
go.
Not a typical fed attitude. Those bastards usually jumped at the chance
to fry a local.
Damn. Chalk one up for the good guys.
"All right," said Palmer as he nodded slowly. "We'll look into it."
With that the two detectives stood up and left. On the ride back home
the men would be seriously rehashing their opinion about the FBI.
Maybe they *weren't* all back-stabbing shits.
Back in the Chief's office, the Feds and the locals were engaged in a
staring contest. The Chief broke firSt.
"So, that's it then," he said.
"Not quite," disagreed Mulder. "I don't know what the two of you are up
to here, but let me give you a little friendly advice," he warned.
"We've got friends here. Including, as of about five minutes ago, the
LAPD."
"Don't give us a reason to concentrate our attention here, gentlemen,"
threatened Scully. "If we come back, it'll be with a task force
comprising the DEA, FBI and IRS. And we'll stay here a long, long
time. Clear?"
The Chief turned pale, confirming the agents suspicion that the man was
as dirty as a cop could get. The Mayor just gave them a bland smile.
"We understand, Agents. If that's all, then please let me bid you
good day."
Scully and Mulder stood and left. Once in the car, the two of them
traded observations about the men they'd left behind.
"Did you see what I saw in the Mayor's eyes, Dana?" queried Mulder.
"Yes. That bastard really isn't afraid of us at all. I wonder why?"
"Well, *I'm* wondering if we should have Mac talk to him," Mulder
suggested, grinning at the thought.
"Is there some reason you want the Mayor dead, Fox?"
Scene 3
Sunnydale, Ca.
150 Creek St.
1930, Saturday (Local)
The five of them – Buffy, Mac, Thomas, Dana and Mulder – sat in the
living room digesting dinner. The two couples were snuggling and
talking quietly as Jager began drifting off to sleep.
Dana had decided the Watcher could go home the following day, and the
two agents would fly home themselves.
"So, are you guys gonna make it to the wedding?" asked Buffy.
The invitation touched Dana deeply. She was a little amazed at how fond
she'd become of the young woman in so short a time. And Mac seemed to
approve of them in turn – though that approval was obviously
tentative.
"Absolutely, we'll come," Dana answered for both herself and Fox.
Mulder canted his eyes at her. Damn, but Scully had gotten possessive
quick. Which was a *good* thing, if unexpected. His only real
question concerned how to make this work. Their enemies would be
dancing in the streets if they learned about his and Dana's change in
status – the Bureau frowned on partners getting involved. It wasn't
outright *prohibited*, but...
Whatever. They'd work it out.
Besides, Mulder had an ally of his own now. He hoped.
"Mac?" he asked.
"Yeah, Mulder," replied the immortal.
"The Consortium..." Mulder's voice trailed away as Buffy gave him a
venomous look.
Mac squeezed his fiancé's hip and answered. "Send me the intel.
I've got some friends who're going to be particularly interested in
this. I'll come to D.C. and visit in a few weeks... I want to meet
this 'Cancerman' of yours."
Buffy didn't look exactly thrilled by Mac's promise. Small wonder – she
and Mac seemed to be constantly dealing with some crisis or other.
'Course, they probably always would be.
"Few weeks?" echoed Mulder.
"Yeah. Buffy and I want a little quiet time before we go charging into
something new." Hearing that, Buffy sighed and nuzzled his neck. "And
I need a little time to get hold of a couple old friends," Mac added.
"Mac, Buffy, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear about this whole
Slayer/Watcher/Immortal thing," asked Dana. "Where'd it start? I
mean, Giles and Joe gave us the party line, but what's your take?"
So Buffy and Mac settled in and shared a few war stories.
Scene 4
Washington, D.C.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
1100, Monday (Local)
A.D. Skinner closed the report and looked at his two agents.
"I don't see anything here about vampires," he noted with relief.
Dawson's warning had worried him.
"The vampires are being dealt with, sir," replied Mulder.
"Come again?" asked Skinner, shocked. He wasn't sure what surprised him
more – Mulder's bland reply or Scully nodding her head.
The two partners had decided that Skinner could be trusted with this
part. He'd seen enough over the years as he supervised the two of
them to know there were a lot of strange things out there. Buffy and
Mac hadn't been so sure, but had finally been willing to go along with
the recommendation.
Of course, Mac was coming to Washington anyway. If he decided Skinner
was a problem, he'd cease being a problem. Cease *being*, for that
matter. Mulder thought Skinner could be of some help, though, and
decided it was worth the risk to the A.D.'s life – not to mention his
own – if he turned out to be wrong.
"I said the vampires are being dealt with. They've been here a long
time, but they're...being kept under control," answered Mulder.
"Agent Scully, don't tell me *you* believe this," pleaded Skinner.
"Not every threat comes from people like Cancerman, sir," she replied.
"I saw one. A vampire."
Skinner's head turned back and forth between the two agents. "And these
'vampires' are being dealt with?" he asked.
Mulder nodded. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything else out of
his two agents, Skinner picked up the report.
"What about the serial killer? How can you be sure that the remains
will turn out to be the right man?" he asked.
"We believe, based on the condition of the remains, that someone with a
personal vendetta against him tried to render the corpse
unidentifiable, sir," answered Scully. "That person – also as yet
unidentified – failed in some aspects. The keys, the car, the knife-"
"Or staged it," Skinner interrupted. "Maybe the serial killer staged it
himself in order to cover his tracks."
"That possibility is discussed in our report, sir," answered Scully.
"Based on the connections between the evidence on hand, and the fact
that they tie all the way back to San Francisco, we find that to be
unlikely."
Skinner considered that for a moment and nodded. "All right. So who
killed the serial killer?"
"We may never know," Mulder answered.
Scene 5
Sunnydale, Ca.
The Bronze
1930, Monday (Local)
Buffy and Willow sat at their table and quietly talked about the
preceding week's events. Willow's eyes got bigger and bigger as Buffy
related her kidnapping and rescue.
"Oh my god!" gasped Willow. "I'd have died from the scare, Buffy. How'd
you deal with it?"
"Mostly I just prayed Mac would find me, which he did, of course."
Willow nodded. "Of course."
"I tell you, when Thomas shot him I almost had a heart attack!" Buffy
continued. "And then..."
As Buffy related the story to her best friend, she noticed Mark and his
friend across the room. The two guys were staring at her and Willow.
Consequently, they completely missed seeing Mac slide up behind them.
The immortal laid a hand on the shoulder of each man and whispered
something to them. If Buffy had blinked at the wrong moment, she
would have missed the boys' departure. She smiled as Mac walked up to
their table with coffee for the three of them.
Buffy stood up to allow Mac to sit down. Then she sat in his lap. As
one of his arms wrapped around her she turned and gave him a look.
"What?" her fiancé asked innocently.
Buffy smiled and gave him a quick kiss before turning back to Willow.
"So anyway, she said. "I'm thinking June..."
-----------------------------------------
Epilogue
Six weeks later
Alexandria, Va.
1440-C Holmes Ave.
2315, Thursday (Local)
The man who had proven to be the bane of Scully and Mulder's lives over
the last seven years walked into his small, cheaply furnished
apartment. It had been another long day. Sometimes he wished he had
no knowledge of what was really happening in the world, no part to
play.
The hand that darted out, closed on his shoulder and jerked him up into
the air was unexpected to say the least. In moments, the man was
gagged, bound to a chair and looking at two very disturbing
individuals. Each was dressed in dark clothes, their faces covered by
black ski masks. The powerful manipulator had just about decided he
was being robbed when one of his attackers squatted down in front of
him and began to speak.
"I don't know you, you don't know me," said the flat, dead voice. "But
you have something I want. I'll stop the pain when you succeed in
guessing what that is."
The man Mulder had dubbed 'Cancerman' focused his eyes on a syringe
that the attacker was about to inject him with. As the needle entered
his arm, an intense burning sensation began to speed through his body
from the point of entry. In moments the pain was almost unbearable.
Waiting for the cocktail of drugs to take effect, his interrogators sat
patiently.
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