Xander walked down the middle of the street, watching the ruins on either side for demon, vampires and mutants. Certainly there was little else out here for him to encounter. Faith was sleeping in 'the bunker,' as they called the apartment. It was top floor, well lit, and inaccessible to the mutants who were even more light averse then vampires. And they died when you shot them, another comfort.
He put a quick burst from his MP5 into a movement in the window of a house, maybe nothing, maybe a mute. Reaching the apartment building, he entered carefully, went to the basement to check that the generator was working, the backup generator was ready to kick in if necessary, double checked the building lights timer, and went up in the elevator to the penthouse. Their home now, until the mutants died or got them.
The dark slayer was waiting for him; he reached for her just as the alarm went off.
"What, where, how?" He said as he sat up in bed.
"You forgot when boytoy." The woman next to him responded. "And maybe you shouldn't see Omega Man late at night from now on. That was it wasn't it, you as Charlton Heston again."
"But I had you as well." And the Motel was limited to three channels; it was all that he could find to watch. Honestly.
"So that makes being the last man alive in a world of biowar mutants ok, does it?" She asked.
"Anywhere is alright as long as I have you." The former zeppo said.
The sun was shining outside, dew was frozen on the grass, and a ground mist was burning off to reveal mountains in the distance and trees. This was as far as they had gotten last night before the cold cut through their riding gear and made them stop. Neither had really understood that August is the dead of winter in the southern hemisphere, and had expected to get to Sydney without needing better gear.
"Shows you what jet lag and fighting Myster demons without recovering from it will do." The carpenter muttered to himself. It was not snowing here, never did get cold enough except for a patch of mountains around Canberra referred to simply as 'the Snowy.' "Faith, lets have breakfast and head off when it's clearer."
Xander was drinking his coffee and looking at the bill. This place was called 'the Log Cabin Motel' and claimed to be in Little Hartley. Little Hartley seemed to consist of the Motel, with a gas station attached, and a general store on the other side of the road. That was it, that was the town.
After rugging up in several layers of clothes, leaving nothing exposed to the wind chill, they headed off to the east, down from the mountains to the city. Xander thought about what had brought them here, a prophecy, obviously, but then his having already made contact with Faith after Willow tried to destroy the world, and them being both obviously the people mentioned in the prophecy and the only Scooby's free to leave immediately. Faith sitting behind him was holding on to the grab rail behind the seat, clearly used to this and enjoying the ride. He had to be more alert, otherwise his instincts would take over and he would ride on the right hand side of the road, as he nearly had last night a few times, missing oncoming traffic by inches.
With the Watchers council wiped out by the first, Giles had had to form a new one from the survivors. It was formed in his own image, inevitably, and put more emphasis on using resources to back up the slayer than on keeping her in line, as previous habit was. So he had watchers around the world looking at prophecies, and one had found 'The Gatekeeper'.
It seemed to specifically require Faith and Xander, and to be outside a town called Bathurst, on the western side of the dividing range from Sydney. 24 hours in a 747, some sleep, a commuter flight to Bathurst, driven to the cave by a watcher, big fight, then some more sleep. Finally, a decision to see some of the country by bike, an old BMW, and here they were. They had a room booked at a place called Coogee; apparently it was a beach suburb. A couple of weeks off for both of them.
It was not quite as benign as it looked, of course. Faith was basically released from prison for this; the Ripper had used some discrete contacts between the council and some of the Presidents old Yale friends to expedite matters. Actually demonstrating killing a vampire in front of said president and his Secret Service agents was the deciding factor, a story of undercover work by 'Agent Faith Morgan' and 'Agent Xander Harris' got the rogue slayer from prison to business class in the time it took to make some phone calls and drive both to LAX. The ID they were carrying was real; they were actually paid Secret Service agents now. It broke a lot of rules but, as Agent Price, of the presidential detail said.
"What else could we do, TELL THE TRUTH? I don't want to see my president retire to a lunatic asylum, it would look bad for my service record."
Faith and Xander had been 'seeing' each other since after Willow tried to end the world. Doing a lot more than seeing, actually, since Faith had begged for 'contact visits', also known as 'conjugal visits', also known as 'fucking your brains out visits.' He had wanted to see if she had reformed, after saving the world from his oldest friend it seemed at least possible. She wanted to demonstrate she had, and scratch and itch she had had for the three years and a bit she had been inside. It meant they trusted each other when needed, as no one else trusted Faith except Angel, who was clearly excluded by the prophecy.
After a long ride through a series of town, and eventually the mountain towns that were the extreme outer western edge of Sydney, they hit the freeway into town. Lunch was at a MacDonald's, where they checked their maps and Faith asked for directions. After getting lost a couple of times they arrived at their hotel, to make an interesting discovery.
"It's a party boytoy." The Coogee Bay Hotel was, like most Australian hotels, principally a place to drink. It was across the street from the grass barbeque area that was next to the beach. It was Saturday, the beer garden was full of people waiting for the band to start, it was sheltered and only just too cold for t-shits anyway. Faith was walking away as soon as the bike stopped.
"Boytoy, I'll be around the bar somewhere." Nearly four years without a drink, she had $200.00 in Australian money, and nothing to stay sober for.
Xander parked, got their room, dumped the saddle bags which were their only luggage in the room, and headed out to look for the dark slayer. It turned out the pub contained several bars, Faith was at the one with the 'choose and grill your own T-Bone' deal, with several bikers and a lot of beer. She waved him over excitedly, while shovelling baked potato and steak into her mouth.
"Freedom, gotta love it." She eventually said, after half emptying her glass.
It was a really a chance to see if Faith would break and run at the first chance, or stay and do her duty, mainly. That was why they had the time here, she needed to adjust to the outside, and the rest of the world needed time to get ready for Faith.
It might be possible, but could the world ever really be ready for Faith, with a badge?
Faith was pondering the bizarre change in her fortunes as she took a sip from her canteen. She, Xander, a locally assigned watcher and two men named Clark and Chavez, were on this mission. Clark was in his early 50's, obviously extremely fit, and also obviously used to being in charge of government-orchestrated violence. And they were all here in Hawaii at government expense. Not five star accommodation, but a hell of an improvement on her last government housing.
John Clark was wondering where in gods name the Secret Service managed to get the pair who he had been ordered to 'support.' Neither was old enough for the Service, which would not have been quite as suspicious if he had not seen their eyes. He had seen eyes like that before, on people younger, but not outside a war zone. He himself had had eyes like Xander Harris, when, as a retired SEAL, he had hunted down and killed the local drug syndicate that had killed his girlfriend. And then there was Faith... 'not totally stable', might be the kind description.
Xander was thinking of how, a few months back, he had decided to kill Buffy Summers. It had become clear that the First Evil was doing what it was doing because of an imbalance, an imbalance caused by Buffy's return from the dead a second time. He loved the blonde slayer like the high school crush she had been, and the friend she was, she was his hero, and her death would stop the First. He had cried as he built the Claymore directional mines he would kill her with.
He had cried, but he had done it anyway. Emotional pain, physical pain, neither had prevented him from doing what he thought was needed before. Neither would have stopped him now, anymore than the constant fear had been allowed to hinder him over the years since he had met Buffy. Killing her would get him life in prison, if not execution, and the lasting hatred of everyone he cared about. Assuming he survived, of course, which was extraordinarily unlikely. It would also save the world, so he had gone ahead with his plan.
Chavez was wondering about the things the man he called Mr C was thinking about too. But he was twenty odd years younger than his mentor, and had a working knowledge of vampires before joining the army, which altered his perspective.
Like Clark, he was scanning the terrain with an automatic thoroughness that their current CIA employers admired from a distance, since field agents are normally licensed to hide, or at most run away, not to kill. Paramilitary agents were the weapons of last resort, used sparingly, never pleasantly.
The Claymore mine, or the official version anyway, is the size of a thick novel, sits on four legs, and fires 300 steel balls in a 120-degree arc. A well-placed line of them will turn a mass of charging infantry into the equivalent weight in cat food. Home made ones routinely use tin pie plates or something similar as a place to pack the explosives and shrapnel they will fire.
Xander Harris had taken an empty 44-gallon oil drum, cut it into three sections, thrown away the middle part, and made use of the end bits. He lined them with concrete, then AMFO explosive made out of ammonium nitrate fertiliser and fuel oil, indented the open end in a cone to focus the explosion directionally before lining it with a thinner version of the concrete mix at the back end, with ball bearings and bits of welding rod mixed in. Better to slay twice than fail once, as the saying goes.
Faith was enjoying the hike up the mountain; she had enjoyed everything since getting out of prison. Too bad the stay in Australia was cut short, but here she was in Hawaii with a man she loved, money to spend, and basics covered as work expenses. And she was needed, a huge plus in her view, not by a madman who wanted to eat a whole town but by the good guys. Actually she and Xander were needed, according to the Nigerian Watcher who had found the prophecy, to be a roving strike team dealing with a series of 'end of the world' attempts. Why couldn't these guys get a new hobby, needlepoint or something?
Clark was preparing in his mind, once again, how he would handle his part of the mission, well aware he and his partner were here mainly as observers. The only previous attempt at government demon hunting, The Initiative, had been a disaster, its survivors still serving, but another perspective from a trusted source was felt necessary. Deputy Director, Intelligence, Ryan had asked for Chavez and himself specifically.
This particular attempt to end the world was happening inside a cave on a jungle-covered hillside. Some cult was doing it, including a series of human sacrifices, led by a demon and his retainers, six of them apparently. The cult was the reason Buffy and the Scooby's could not do this.
Buffy Summers and her group had an aversion to killing humans. The people actually here would do anything that needed doing. Anything at all.
The actual killing of the buffster was to have been fairly straightforward. Set the Claymore's up in crossfire in the old warehouse he was building them in, and cover them with canvas. Get her to go there by claiming Scooby business, walk her to the point where the blast from the shaped charge mines would converge, and then trigger the radio detonator. There wouldn't have been enough left of either of them to fill an eggcup. The First could not be here without Buffy upsetting the balance, end of problem.
The two lookouts died without knowing they were in danger, as people often did when the two CIA men were sent. Silencers do not truly silence a weapon, but do make it harder to hear at any distance. Given that the MP5 does not take a silencer attached to the barrel, but has a WHOLE BARREL that is a silencer, the failure of the people and things inside the cave to notice was understandable.
Fatal, but understandable.
Past the cave entrance it dipped and then turned to the left, before opening out into the chamber where the ceremony was starting. The cult members were a crowd in front of the demon and acolytes, thus having their backs to the intruders. The sacrifices were tied up along the far wall, waiting to be brought to the alter so their hearts could be torn out and placed, still beating, in a sacrificial container. It already had some contents.
Some final hand signals started things. Xander shot the priest, as he was about to force his knife into the bare chest of a sacrifice, throwing him against the wall gushing blood. The cult, about eighteen of them, were all armed with their own versions of the priest's knife, as part of the ceremony. They had not been expecting trouble except on their own terms, however, and the different parts of the crowd responded with different speeds.
The demons were quickest to respond, being centuries old and used to violence. Against firearms closing to hand-to-hand was necessary, and they were basically bullet proof anyway. Clark, Chavez, and Xander moved to either side of the entrance, setting up an arc of fire, with the demons running down the middle towards the entrance and the waiting Faith.
Faith had a broadsword, a large two-handed thing that weighed surprisingly little, really. It cleaved the slathering purple things like they were cardboard, arms, ribcages, shoulder blades, everything. A series of sweeping arcs as she ran and they were just a wet, warm, obstruction to traffic. She moved to the right, where her lover stood alone, and picked her weapon out of his bag. It was time to kill again.
As the demons fought the dark slayer the cultists were gathering their wits enough to attack. None got within knife range, the 9mm fire ripped through their ranks quite effectively. When it was over the last potential sacrifices were released, and a chopper was called in to evacuate them to a place where they would be persuaded to tell the official story to the press. 'Park Ranger saves kidnap victims after bizarre cult murder-suicide ritual', with some guy who had never been there slotted in as the hero of the hour.
Xander was not drunk, he never allowed himself to get drunk. It was cool in here, and he had showered and changed after getting back. The Watcher had stayed outside the cave, sickened at what was necessary, even when understanding it was needed. The dark haired man with the mineral water was just glad to be here. Here, not shovelled into a body bag weeks ago as part of his 'kill Buffy' plan.
Faith, being Faith, had insisted on a serious fucking session soon as they returned to the hotel. She was taking the slaughter in the cave well; on the whole, given her reluctance to kill humans was part of her redemption. She had been extremely 'energetic'; slaying always got her this way, bobbing up and down on his penis while her breasts bounced. Right now she was chatting up a woman at the other end of the bar, who had her hand on the dark slayers thigh and kept looking at the Bostonian's tits.
Strange how life works, he thought, I did not have to kill Buffy because of what they did to my ex-fiancé The First had been kidnapping and/or killing various members of the surviving Scooby's and slayers in training, when it made a fatal error. Anya was taken, and subjected to the traditional opening torture of female prisoners, she was gang raped. Oral, anal, and vaginal orifices were violated, as she was taunted and abused over the space of a week.
Raping a vengeance demon has to be one of the most suicidally stupid things anyone can do. Possibly the First's minions had initially acted without his direct orders, or else evil really is dumber than good. D'Hoffran did not work for the First Evil, since the demons under him were fulfilling human wishes, and therefore technically under human direction. And in any case, no powerful lord could accept this kind of treatment of his followers passively without losing all power.
What followed had variously been described by surviving demons as either a palace coup or a civil war in hell. Certainly a large part of the Earth's nuclear weapons stockpile disappeared into D'Hoffran's arsenal as he prepared for it, and none came back for re-sale on the black market. Accounts were sketchy, but the First was now very low on the ranking of the rulers of evil, a yesterday's demon, a once was great, with few followers.
"Thinking about me again?" Anyanka, patron demon of the violated, said. She was standing next to him in the bar, having teleported directly there. A few people had seen her appear, shrugged, and mostly gone back to their drinks. Mostly.
"I'm so sorry An, I'm so sorry I failed you, I should have..."
"Should have what Xander, launched a frontal assault on the First Evil with stakes, crossbows and swords?" She seemed normal, perfectly human and speaking earnestly to him. He had not seen her since the rescue, when she had been freed and simply smiled a truly terrifying smile in her demon visage, and shouted 'I WILL BE AVENGED!' before teleporting away. "Lord D'Hoffran needed over 200 megatons merely to breach the outer defences of his hellish realm."
"We did get in eventually, I should have done something, traded myself for you or something."
"Or kill Buffy, like you planned? That would not have allowed me my vengeance, and they had already all used me by the time he sent his messenger to tell you." Incredibly for someone who had been subjected to what she had, she was comforting him. He was surprised, and then wondered about something else.
"My lord D'Hoffran had sacked the First's fortress by the time you attacked. That is the only reason you are not now next to me, in his dungeon, with them taking turns at each of us." He had known it had to be something like that, given that the vengeance lord had visited him personally to change his plans, had persuaded him to hold off either killing Buffy or attempting to rescue Anya. "I came here to tell you something."
"What?" Expecting it to be, 'you will burn in hell for all eternity for leaving me at the alter' or something similar. He noticed Faith walking towards them with the woman she had picked up, clearly expecting trouble.
"You are forgiven. You were afraid of becoming like your father, a drunk, a rapist, and a child abuser, and you wanted to protect me from that." Her demon face and voice was on display now, this was Anyanka, not Anya speaking. "And I am now officially assigned to vengeance for rape victims."
"Oh, by the way." The demon added, in a casual tone. "I tortured your parents to death last week, I have it on DVD for you if you would like to see it."
"I was wondering about that" His mother had always held him down for her husband, and insulted the boy for crying as his father molested him. Anya had referred directly to his father as a rapist, and then said she was avenger of rape victims, what else was she going to do, take them fishing? "And you're a lot more formal about your, I guess boss, then you were."
"I owe him more than I can ever repay now, he over through the First Evil in my name." Anyanka no longer had doubts or any hesitancy about her role. Nor did she have any doubts about the human she had nearly been permanently mated to. She could read his fantasies, knew what horrified him now; she needed that to tell the guilty from the falsely accused. "And you owe him, for saving your world."
"What exactly does he want for this debt?" Faith asked. Visions of herself trying to obey orders from the Watchers Council, the White House, and D'Hoffran all at once entered the dark slayer's head. The red head she had her arm around was nibbling at her ear, not noticing anything of the conversation. Xander was wondering how to thank Anya for his parents without doing anything that would be incriminating in the inevitable murder enquiry.
"Nothing immediate, and nothing either of you would have moral qualms with." Anya then kissed him, Faith and the red head, before teleporting out. Again, only two other people in the bar really noticed. But then, Clark and Chavez always noticed strange things. It was why they were still alive.
"Mr C, do you think we'll be working with those two again, 'cause mano, this could get interesting?" Domingo Chavez said, falling into the accent of his LA gang member days. Sometimes he spoke like a man completing his Masters in International Relations, which he also was, but this seemed more the event for his earlier persona. He was a spy; after all, changing persona was part of the job.
"Never see anyone beam up before Ding?" And lets not mention Faith licking the blood off her sword earlier today.
"No, have you?" Harris had, as they exchanged stories about 'how I got into all this', explained that the first kill he ever made in the line of duty had been Jesse, his best friend, also his last male friend, at the age of 16. Ding had been pondering what something like that did to a man's soul ever since.
"Got me there." His report to the DDI would be totally honest and accurate. After all, Sir John Patrick Ryan, PhD, had sent him on a mission with vampire hunters. A scene from Star Trek being enacted in a hotel in Honolulu was not really totally out of place, after that.
Rupert Giles was pondering the way the world had turned on its head, or perhaps, the way it had always been on its head and he had not noticed. Xander had proven to be someone far more then he had ever thought he was. He felt like a man who had been practicing juggling with some water filled bags, because they were soft and therefore safe from clumsiness, only to be later told they were full of nitro-glycerine.
The claymores were still sitting in the warehouse, and he was wondering how to get them removed without the rest finding out. The Council people were mainly dead, and the American government might ask embarrassing questions, the ability of the white house to cover up being actually rather limited. Anyway, they could have taken down a light armoured vehicle, at least at close range. Did he really think Buffy was that hard to kill?
Willow was having coffee with a girl she had met last week. It was just coffee, but after all the flirting one of the slayers in training had done the red head was making a first, hesitant step out of her pit of pain and grief. It was too soon after Tara for her to think seriously of searching for romance, but perhaps she could start believing she had a right to a little happiness again.
Buffy was somewhere with someone, there had been a series of casual involvements rarely lasting more than a week, sometimes one night. He would have worried about it if she had not dated vampires in the past. After having had sex with both members of the pair known as 'the Scourge of Europe', perhaps she was giving up on dating mass murderers. He certainly hoped so.
And Ripper Giles sat looking at his account book, trying his best to keep it as neat and clear as Anya had, and he had news that the aforementioned Anya was back in the vengeance business in a big way. Xander Harris, who he along with everyone else had tried to keep out of the fight to avoid his being hurt, turns out to be perfectly willing to not only kill the woman he loves, but die in the process just to get it right.
Faith, the rogue slayer, turns out to have a destiny to take Xander and run around the world putting down attempts to end the world or raise super powerful demons. That the two outsiders in the Scooby's had joined up, one a psycho the other suicidally ruthless, and were now a team, that was scary.
Growing up in a household of watchers he knew the world was a strange place full of marvels and terrors. Vampires, demons, and werewolves he could deal with, mentally and physically. But Xander and Faith running loose in the world, with the full authority of BOTH the watchers council and some extremely secretive US government agencies? Xander as Mr Ruthless, 'Kill them all and let God sort it out', teamed with Faith, who's hobbies were sex, violence, drinking and killing?
It was strange, frightening, and possibly a real hope foe the future of humanity. But what kind of watcher was he that it had started under his nose and he had not even seen it coming?
Xander Harris had never experienced snow before, not really. There had been that Christmas where it snowed in Sunnydale, apparently the PTB's attempt to make it clear that Deadboy had a destiny working for them. But he was in Russia now, in the forest in damn Russia, and beginning to understand how the nazi's had referred to 'General Winter' as the best general the Russians had. The strange looks Chavez had been giving him since 'the packages' had arrived from Sunnydale did not lift his mood either.
Faith was looking forward to the mission, or rather, to the part of the mission where she got in out of the cold for a while and maybe got a chance to kill something. There was this huge mansion, called Dacha in Russian, apparently. Once inside they had to steal - no 'recover' - a thing called the Chalice of Oberon, and get out. Clark had promised to 'arrange covering fire during the extraction phase', which she assumed meant he was out there right now with a sniper rifle trained on the house.
Sergey Nickolay'ch Golovko sat in his office in the Lubyanka wondering about the reports he had in front of him. As head of the Federal Intelligence Service, the organization that had once been the KGB, he received a lot of odd reports, but vampires and demons taking over the organised crime that was already a major problem in his country, well, that had been strange.
Strange, but easy to prove, once they knew what to look for. Ryan, his old friend/enemy/sparing partner from the late cold war days, had come up with a team to prove it. Clark and Chavez were known and feared from the past, but Xander and Faith...The woman carried a sword and knew how to use it, kicked like a mule, and drank, as Clark had phrased it, 'like Jack Daniels wants his bottles back, NOW.' Skills that had far more to do with the credibility of the team to the Russian fighting men involved than the words of the Intellectuals in tweed from England ever would.
General-Lieutenant Gennady Iosefovich Bondarenko was one of those fighting men, was in fact the one in overall command of the Russian end of things. He had been asked to provide covering fire, and he would. Ok, so it was a Russian Army type of covering fire, but then this Harris did not seem to be a big believer in subtlety either. Certainly not it 'the packages' were any indication.
Hauling those things here from California was, objectively, totally unnecessary and a threat to operational security. But one look at what the 'normal guy' from the land of warm decadence had created and Agent Xander Harris had gained real respect. They were wonderfully Russian. Now all Golovko could do was wait for the phone to ring.
The Dacha was an aristocrat's palace; either from the Imperial days or the communists, both ruling elites had built similar types of things for themselves. It was several stories, surrounded by forest, and farmland that would have been the aristocrat's estates, or maybe a collective farm. It was somewhere east of Moscow, Faith did not know or care precisely where. She was concentrating on her Slayer powers, feeling outwards for anyone who might notice her and raise the alarm. There had been a party here over the weekend, running into the early morning, now it was a few hours before dawn and everyone was indoors, if not necessarily asleep.
Faith had been working on her slayer senses in prison, since they were the part that she had the greatest ability to work on without panicking the guards. Her use of the yard to improve and test her physical conditioning had led to 'concern', of the wide eyed stare and 'lets all point our shotguns and assault rifles at Faith' type.
Ok, so demonstrating that she could, with a running start, leap up to the guard towers was unexpected. How was she to know that the screws put so much stock in their elevated position as protection from the rabble below? And such rude language, really, she was just getting some exercise, and the view from up there was so much better, a girl wanted a change of scenery now and then, after all.
So, anyway, the dark slayer was moving through the trees on the eastern side, nearest the house, Xander was with her but would not be going inside. Clark had an observation post to the south, the planned escape route through the forest. Chavez was planting the packages along said route, as a surprise for anyone anxious to keep the unexpected visitors from leaving. Everything was very quiet, after all the noise of what looked like a hundred of the most powerful criminals and / or demons in the country partying continually for three days.
People, even vampire and demon people, tend to see what they expect to see. Faith had an outfit on similar to what some of the human looking guests had been wearing, and her entry method was to just walk in the front door like she belonged there. It was not locked, and after days of booze, orgying, booze, more orgying, and drugs she was expecting them to be too out of it to care much. She always was, anyway.
Inside the place looked like exactly what is was, a reasonable facsimile of the palace of Versailles. Sweeping staircases, mirrors, paintings, chandeliers, thick carpet, the whole thing was enormous and only thinkable by someone who had an army of servants to clean. It had enough bedrooms to sleep all the people/things here, especially since so many of them were sharing beds and even bed partners.
The Chalice was in a display case overlooking the main ballroom. She walked up to it, stepping over the sleeping, or rather unconscious, bodies of various guests as she did. The Chalice had the power to raise a really dangerous demon lord, Shunkala by name, and destroying it required a special ceremony that the watcher with them was preparing. Leaving it here with these drunken fools meant someone was going to use it eventually, and then a major part of the world would be Shunkala's. Assuming he felt like stopping at just a part, of course.
Xander had been busy in the parking area, doing his part and not trying to think about what would happen if Faith were caught doing hers. Most of the visitors had flown in to a small airstrip a few miles down their escape route, and been taken to the palace by limo. So he was sabotaging the transport when all hell broke loose, almost literally. The dark slayer was running out the door, and being pursued by the ugliest mob he had seen an eminem concert once.
John Clark saw the slayer, as he now knew she was titled, running for her life, out of the palace, with something in her hand, and reported it to Bondarenko and Chavez. In his turn, the general told the appropriate people to prepare to fire. So orders were passed, messages repeated, and a young woman ran down snow covered steps and down an icy, snow covered road, with demons chasing her and only the hope that her lift would pick her up on the fly.
And then it did, the Mercedes both had mentioned as the best get away car pulled up next to the running slayer with the door open and a grinning Xander inside.
"Wanna lift?" He said. She jumped in and the car took off at maximum speed. She was early, and he had not had time to see to all the cars, as his rear view mirror showed. Two other cars were pursuing them; none of the rest would start.
The road entered the forest proper and the three cars were going flat out, with a gap between the first and the other two. It was a narrowing gap, the Merc not being chosen for its speed advantage, but for being readily identifiable.
"I hope Clark got Ding up to speed." Faith said.
Suddenly there was a titanic explosion, as Xander's Claymores went off. The cars chasing them disintegrated into metallic confetti. The road was now blocked by burning gasoline and metallic scrap. Given that their transport was gone the demons were going nowhere fast.
"What happened about the covering fire?" The dark slayer asked. The total lack of Clark shooting at the demons chasing her had annoyed her, but she had not really been listening to the plan, except for her part. It would have slowed them down, anyway.
"That was more for Clark, and ..." whatever he was about to say was inaudible over the sound of massed artillery. Clark had an armoured personnel carrier waiting, and that actually moved slower than some of the demons could run, in a forest anyway.
Air burst's tend to shred anything living and above ground, without making craters or accidentally landing on and smashing APC's with escaping CIA agents in them. The roar of explosions was continuous now, and very close. The vehicle commander was speaking in rapid fire Russian to the artillery commander, and the sounds changed. Contact fused round were being fired now, to pulverise shelter, and VX nerve gas was mixed in with it, just to be sure. There were over 100 guns firing for the next few hours, at noon helicopter gunships would search out survivors for the afternoon, then the artillery would resume for the night.
Subtlety has never been the strongpoint of the Russian army.
"Xander, friend, buddy, lover, did you really build those things just to take out Buffy?" Faith asked.
"Well, yeah, better safe than sorry, and all that." He was totally unapologetic, a lot of people had underestimated the blonde slayer, and failed as a result. He had not planned on repeating that mistake.
"Cool." The dark slayer responded. Then she added "Why don't we go back to our room and fuck some more?"
"Ok."
Willow Rosenburg enjoyed the feeling of a large cock being rammed into and out of her from behind. It was fun, not the real thing, because, after Tara, there was no mistaking the fact that 'the real thing' meant women, for her anyway. But yes it was fun, especially with the wife of the man in question smiling at her from across the room as she watched. Cathy was a wonderful friend, to arrange this for her.
Cathy was not in love with anyone other than Ray, the owner of the aforementioned large cock. She was a friend who had wanted to find out what eating pussy was like. That is how she had actually phrased it, 'I want to find out what eating pussy is like, and, I was planning on it being yours, unless you have objections.'
Willow had not objected. She had spat the coffee she was drinking across t he front of the other woman's blouse, and stared with her eyes bugging out of her head, but she had not objected. Her friend had gone into the bathroom to wash the coffee off her top, dragging the red head with her.
"You understand I am totally straight, don't you? And I'm not in love with you, I'm not offering that?" The black woman had stated, while taking her blouse off to reveal she was not wearing a bra underneath. Willow realised she was staring at the other woman's spectacular cleavage, and looked up, blushing. Her friend smiled and started washing out the coffee in the basin, planning to use the hand drier to get the material dry enough to wear publicly. "I want you to look at me like that again, please, I liked that way you look."
Tara had not tended to say things like that, had not shown herself off for erotic effect. This was different, her married student friend, who was receiving maths coaching from her, was ASKING her to stare at her breasts, to drool over those melon size tits, to imagine her tongue running over the nipples.
Willow was getting aroused by the view before her, but, to be honest, mainly by the idea that this woman WANTED her to be aroused, wanted her lust, enjoyed it. The red head was still self conscious, when she had said, in her 'destroy the world' phase, that Tara was the thing that made her, without the other Wicca she was nothing, she meant this. She had been the social outcast that no one really thought of as a girl, except as the smart kid with no clothes taste, by nearly everyone all her life.
"Can I?" The red head timidly asked.
"What, touch, suck on my nipples, eat me out right here and now?" Cathy was relieved this was working, she had been so scarred she would get an 'I just think of you as a friend' response. She had been raised to think of this, the woman to woman attraction, as a perversion, a depravity, and, honestly, she could not see how a woman could fall in love with a woman, even if men were incredibly frustrating at times. It turned her on because of it, no offence meant to Willow. "Lock the outer door, I know it locks, that's why I chose this restaurant."
The Wicca had gone to the door in a daze, indeed it did lock from the inside to show an 'occupied' sign on the other side. Turning around she saw the other totally naked, smiling with arms becoming, like some African fertility goddess. Willow didn't know for sure Africa had fertility goddesses, but that is what Cathy looked like, and she dropped to her knees in front of the other woman to taste and tease and stimulate. Eventually it was Willow's turn to give Cathy a different kind of tutoring, the wife and mother was ignorant at first but learned fast, and clearly enjoyed the lesson.
That was how it had started, with the next sex session at the apartment the two married students were using. Willow had asked about Ray, meaning that this was adultery, it was wrong, we couldn't do this to a nice guy like him.
"Oh Willow I'm so glad you asked, yes he would be delighted to join in, but I've been nervous about asking you." The other woman had looked extremely relieved. Clearly she had been wondering how to raise the topic and thought the Rosenburg daughter wanted her husband to join. "I fantasise about the three of us, about you enjoying him, him fucking us while we eat each other. And I really want you to like his cum off my tits."
"You're a perverted slut Cathy." Ray had said once.
"Really?" His wife responded, batting her eyelashes and looking totally innocent. "NO, you're just saying that."
"No, I mean it, you are totally depraved."
"Thank you, kind sir." She said, and kissed her husband with a romantic touch, not lust, two people very much in love. Willow found the whole thing amusing rather then an insult, as she had since that day in the restaurant when he friend had told her why she was so turned on. Buffy kept screwing people who had been dead for centuries, now that was a serious perversion, but she was still her friend.
The sex was not empty and meaningless, as some would think, because it was three friends doing fun things together. Willow enjoyed being able to relax and enjoy both sides of her sexuality, having repressed her Sapphic desires around Oz and the repressed her interest in men around Tara. She realised neither had ever asked her to do that, but she had been certain they would take it badly, Tara in particular being insecure would have worried about being abandoned for a more conventional choice.
So the red headed Wicca was able to have some guilt free time, which was a blessing. In addition to the guilt about the killing of Warren, the attempt to end the world, etc, she had the guilt of just assuming Tara could not accept her for who she was. At the time she had not even thought about it, she had just ignored her romantic involvements with Xander, and Oz. That was an insult to Tara too, in its own way.
Speaking of Xander, his return with Faith had been a wonderful event. The dark slayer was, if anything, wilder than she had been when she first arrived in Sunnydale. Then she had been on the run from Kaikistos, and trying to fit in, trying to be more like Buffy who she felt, everyone admired more than her. Now, after travelling the world for six months, she made her earlier persona look like a nun. The Secret Service had plans to take them to a school for etiquette, or at least that organizations version of how to behave so as not to embarrass them. Willow wished them good luck, really, she did. She giggled helplessly while she said it, but she did.
The change in Xander had been amazing too, not all of it for the best, in her opinion. He was a much harder man than she had ever suspected he could be, at least on the surface. He was 'the brains of the outfit', not that Faith was stupid, but she did not plan, she responded, and that was a one-way ticket to an early grave, in her oldest friends stated view.
Xander had to be, as Giles had phrased it, 'Mr Ruthless', the coldly efficient planner and level head of the pair, partly to control his partner, and partly to ensure he kept control of her efforts. People he only referred to as Ryan, Clark, and Golovko were not used to letting operatives in their early twenties plan operations, let alone have control of them. But none of them understood slaying, and he had no intention of letting Faith get killed as part of their learning process.
So it was a cold, ruthless, professional killer who greeted her out of her oldest friends eyes when they talked about his exploits in exotic places the second day home. Quick getaways in Russia, barely escaping as the artillery smashed everything behind them. Night assaults in Columbia, the night vision goggles showing everything an eerie green in the jungle night, releasing the hostages, flashes of light from shotguns and satchel charges and flamethrowers. Massi tribesmen in Africa, their wooded spears practiced and effective, even if mainly carried because none felt dressed without one.
Eventually he had broken down and cried, hugging her fiercely as he spoke of the people who had died, never knowing that he was coming to save them. Of cultists and sacrifices, and those who could not be rescued because the guaranteed friendly casualties from the attempt made it suicidal.
It was hard to imagine her old friend, the perpetual bad joke teller, having to make decisions like that and then force them on his high strung slayer and whatever support was on hand. The first time was the hardest, he had gotten falling down drunk for the first time in his life with John Clark afterward. The second was a little easier, though Faith was cold to him for a while after. What really terrified him was that it was becoming easier.
"By the time we were in Moscow, that was a month ago, the decision to not even try to get into the cellars and see if their were hostages was easy. At least a hundred demons, only me and Faith had any real experience at killing them, or, more importantly, effective weapons except 122mm howitzers, there was no choice. " His haunted eyes were imploring her to understand, he really could see no other choice. The last thing he wanted was for her to come up with one, that would make him a callous murderer, but he also wanted her to give him an alternative, for next time.
"We would have been caught and killed or turned, the artillery would have smashed the Chalice up like the Judge was, and, centuries from now, someone like Spike would have put all the fragments together and used it." Sitting on the edge of her bed in the Summers house, with Buffy and Dawn standing in the doorway, in his line of sight, seen and yet not. "All these old KGB and Spetsnaz guys looked at me, Spetsnaz is a Russian Special Operations Force, they do stuff against the Chechens like this all the time, they agreed with me, it was the only way."
"You have to believe them Xander, I mean, I couldn't do it, but, you didn't have a choice." Buffy spoke quietly from the doorway. She had never believed she would experience something like this, or that her Xander shaped friend would be in this position some day. "Xander, you have to stop this because it's destroying you. It's killing you Xander."
"Buffy, I don't have any real choice. They need a Slayer for this work, the slayer senses and hand to hand is irreplaceable, the initiative tried enhancement and you know how that turned out." He was calm again, explaining his actions in a way that made people thoughtful and turned those thought where he wanted them was second nature now. "You have to stay, Dawn has to stay with you, we both know Dawn Patrol here is already at full slayer capacity and two slayers here are really a requirement. Willow and Giles are also needed here, for research and backup."
Dawn had gained her slayer powers one day, and everyone had thought Faith must have been killed. It turned out to be that she was made out of Buffy AFTER the blonde became the slayer, when she reached the level of physical maturity the Buffster had had when activated, that was it, instant third slayer. Willow was a help with research, helping Giles at the Magic Box after College, and simply providing emotional support when the slayers needed it. So she and Giles had to stay too.
"Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Guys it's the only way. FAITH CAN'T BE TURNED LOOSE ON THE WORLD WITHOUT SUPPORT OR CONTROL." And none of them was going to really argue about that. They still remembered the whole Mayor thing, what had happened with Faith feeling abandoned and out of control. "I have to be the one to do it, I have to support her, and besides, I kind of love her."
"Ok. Xander, what was that about Claymores, I heard Giles mention them, but a Claymore is a Scottish Sword, you never made any swords, what gives?" Dawn asked, trying to steer the conversation onto safe ground.
"Claymores, ah, yeah, ah...So, Dawn Patrol, how about the Bronze tonight?"
"Xander what are you trying to hide, were the Claymores stolen or something, from a museum, is that it?" Buffy could tell he was lying about something that made him nervous. But what?
"Stolen, no, not stolen." Should he tell them now, where there were witnesses to help prevent his murder?
"What's this about Xander, it's not swords is it?" Willow chimed in.
"Well, you see, Buffy, the First Evil, it was only able to be here because you were brought back from the dead."
"The imbalance I created, yes, I know."
"So, I realised, if you were gone..."
"Gone, gone where, anywhere on Earth he still had his imbalance, were you going to send me to the moon or something."
"Ah, no, so, Buffy, we really should start doing the laundry now, and, hey, it's your turn." Willow said, suddenly having seen her oldest friends line of reasoning.
"Laundry, guys, what am I missing? GUYS!!!"
"It was good to see them again." Xander Harris said. He was sitting next to Faith, as the train moved through the night. They were somewhere past Denver, and expecting trouble. That was the way the prophecy had been interpreted anyway, that somewhere between LA and Philadelphia the demon Sochor would be raised by demons that used the passengers as sacrifices. They were here to stop it. "But I worry about Willow, I mean, involved with someone who's only turned on because she thinks it's a perversion, that can't be good."
Faith agreed with him, and had said so before. This Cathy seemed like fun, from her perspective, but Red was a romantic soul and needed someone who at least didn't implicitly insult her every time they had sex. Her behaviour was so out of character, the open discussion of screwing, and the casual attitude to whom with, very unlike Willow. But worrying about it would not help, time to get plan man's mind onto something else.
"Look, Xman, I really enjoy the long trip to nowhere, but how did they manage to interpret a message from 1033 as refereeing to a train trip in the USA? I mean, given that there was no trains OR United States at the time, tell me?" It genuinely was bugging the Boston slayer; it had to be a hell of a stretch to make the usual cryptic and/ or confusing language get them to this place at this time. Given the resources laid on for this mission, it had better pan out, or they might not get what they needed next time.
Clem was running through the trees, followed by a man with a sword, who called himself Sir Reginald of Balantine. Not a big guy, but he had instantly jumped at the chance to help when asked. The floppy eared demon had gone looking for the slayer, and found the man practicing with his sword in a clearing. This being Sunnydale, the conclusion that an experienced human swordsman was here to kill evil things came naturally. Also mistakenly, in this case.
Clem was scared, both of the fight he was running to - not a natural response on his part - and of the consequences of failure. Basically a peaceful soul, he had heard rumours of one of the Slayers friends being used for a sacrifice, and checked it out. Two people, a man and a woman, both armed, were inside the cave with the red headed Scooby, the demon hoped the ceremony had not gotten to the killing yet.
"Quiet, we have to be quiet or they'll kill her before we can save her." Spikes crypt sitter said. Sir Reginald looked winded from the run, and seemed to be psyching himself up, so best to give it a few minutes before moving in. Another look at the man's sword relaxed the pale demon; it was clearly a well-made piece of craftsmanship, which confirmed his original belief that this was an experienced fighter.
When the first group of demons moved into the passenger area from the luggage compartment, they made an interesting discovery. Well, actually a series of discoveries that were so closely linked in time and nature to count as one discovery.
First, that the Close Quarters Battle, or CQB, version of the M4 enhanced carbine is an ugly weapon, stumpy due to the 10" barrel, and having an IR/visible laser and separate red dot sight, a fore grip, collapsible stock, and just generally lacking the clean lines of its M16 forebear.
Second, half a dozen of them pointed at you by members of SEAL Team Six are even uglier, a genuine example of the whole being greater, or in this case less aesthetically pleasing, then the sum of the parts.
Third, that incendiary ammunition from said weapons would penetrate their tough demon hides perfectly adequately at the length of a train carriage.
Fourth, that said ammunition, while created with vampire killing in mind, was entirely adequate to kill them, quickly and very painfully.
"Charlie leader to Alpha, ten delta's KIA, no friendly loss, am securing site, over."
"Alpha to Charlie leader, roger that, well done." Xander responded, through the headset he was wearing. He was relieved it had worked, never having been used in a real situation before. The ammunition had been tested on various corpses and bits of corpses left over from the last few months, and from the group Reilly Finn was now with. But it had not actually been used in combat up to this point, and as field commander it was all on his head.
"Boytoy, the SEAL's really don't like Delta Force, do they?" Faith commented, it was a rhetorical question. Using the term delta for the demons matched the radio phonetic system perfectly, as in A= alpha, B = Bravo, but it was also an insult to a group the navy men thought of as publicity hungry show ponies.
"Yes Faith, because the SEAL's never had any movies made about them, now did they?" Dealing with elite forces was always a matter of competing egos and testosterone, sometime he felt like the only adult along on these missions. "Well, let's see what else there is, get those slayer senses working on the move."
They were at the other end of the train from the first fight, with people on each carriage to deal with local events. The dark slayer had detected the large group of demons hiding amid the bags on her first walk down the platform of the train station. There were other readings, but not as large, and they may or may not have been anything more than passengers who just happened to be demons. Evil things that go bump in the night use Amtrak too, after all.
Inside the cave was dark, with their way visible from the light of many candles in the open area where the ceremony was being conducted. 'Sir Reginald' was walking along the right hand side of the cave, Clem the left. As they approached the others, the armed man stopped for a second, recognising the couple with the ceremonial knives. Then he gripped his sword tighter and stepped into view.
"Release the woman immediately or die." Willow Rosenburg was tied, naked, to an alter stone. She looked terrified and confused, a perfectly reasonable response given the identities of the couple that were about to kill her.
"David, what in fuck's name are you doing here?"
"Offering you a chance to stand trial rather than die on the spot Ray." David Nabbit responded. He had been coming back from a Renaissance Sword Fighting Society meeting, with his newly purchase weapon, and been unable to fight the urge to practice a bit in a wild looking area, instead of the practice room near his office. Then Clem, an obvious demon, had asked his help rescuing a woman. What else was he expected to do but don his 'dungeons and dragons' persona and go?
"You know them?" Clem asked. He was confused, or at least surprised, but the former hacker was safe, for the moment.
"Yes, he knows us, and he's a fake, a phoney, just a rich geek who never got laid without paying for it in his life." Raymond Howard knew the computer millionaire well, had tried to get him to invest in his idea. The nerd had turned him down, claiming 'ethical concerns.' "She's a dike witch David, your knights would have burned her at the stake, let's just waste her and floppy over there, and you can hump Cathy over her corpse, what do you say?"
"I say you two are up for rape, if you got her co-operation the way I think you did, and a good lawyer will confuse a jury enough so you may get a light sentence." Nabbit had recognised the potential victim from a group photo Angel had shown him once, knew what Cordelia had told him about her while discussing the Slayer and high school. "And if saving damsels in distress is not what real knights actually did, well that's their problem, isn't it."
They were walking slowly, letting the Boston Slayer stretch her senses and classify the supernatural passengers into threat, neutral and friendly. They had actually met a friendly, a Bracken demon and his family on holiday, and told them to stay in their sleeper berths until told otherwise. They were collateral damage waiting to happen if the SEAL's saw them, after all.
Their jackets with Secret Service on them, plus the badges hanging from the front pockets, got them through the car with minimal interference. Of course, Faith's sword and his own M4 might also have had an influence in that area. Any demon classed as a threat was killed on the spot, and seeing people they had been talking to most of the day turn into an inhuman monsters, then a dead inhuman monsters, gave the human passengers stories to tell their grand children.
And the government supplied trauma therapists, of course.
"Die witch!" Cathy Howard screamed and plunged her dagger down towards the red head's heart. David had been moving slowly towards them, and she felt if he got any closer they could not complete the ceremony. And she was looking forward to the post killing sex far too much to let this nothing computer nebbish prevent it.
"NO." David swung his sword across and took the arm off at the elbow, the knife falling short and cutting the intended victims' arm, badly but not fatally. People with no sword experience rarely understand how long a reach they give; Nabbit had been counted on the fact.
Ray lunged at the billionaire with his own dagger, seeing what had happened to his wife. It had all been going so well, the field test of the aphrodisiac had been a success, Cathy had fallen back in love with him after a near divorce, and the sacrifice was going to tie them together for eternity. Now she was spraying arterial blood over the whole scene, and his life was in danger.
Nabbit was an extremely intelligent man, as most self-made computer billionaires are. He could see Cathy was no longer a threat and could be ignored for the moment, her husband was the problem. A slash at the arm of the biochemist made him back away, and Clem went to free the bound Scooby.
"Charlie lead to Alpha, have searched and secured the Luggage carriages, only two more deltas, both KIA, no friendly loss, over."
"Roger Charlie lead, three delta KIA so far, over." Bravos one through twenty were the pairs assigned to carriage security, leaving Charlie 1 through twelve as the SEALS, and Alpha lead and one as Faith and himself. When he and the dark slayer reached Charlie's position, everyone would go back to a lower alert mode. There might be another attack, after all, and it was a long way to the city of brotherly love.
Willow Rosenburg was embarrassed, and only David's reassurances had kept it from being totally humiliating. That she had been a field test of an aphrodisiac, by a couple of major lunatic's. Her behaviour had worried people, but since she seemed in charge of herself they had not stopped her from an involvement that had nearly ended her life. 'It was all the drug, honestly.' He said again.
Buffy was guilt stricken, as usual, Dawn was angry at herself for not seeing the red head's behaviour as chemically induced, as was Giles. Xander and Faith were on the east coast, 'debriefing', but had sent flowers and an apology 'for not doing something', as her oldest friend had phrased it. Dear Xander, still protective of her.
Officially David Nabbit had called the police and ambulance, since he could hardly say a floppy eared demon had done it with his cell phone while he stayed in the cave to guard Willow. The billionaire had stayed at her side, talking about things that only the truly computer obsessed would understand, let alone be interested in. She had enjoyed it, it reminded her of her high school computer geek days, simpler times from her current perspective.
Cathy and Ray had both been under guard in the hospital, after confessing to drugging her to obtain sex, which is legally rape, and plotting to kill her. It was good that they had confessed, because with their injuries her rescuer could have been in bad trouble without it. Especially since they had disappeared from custody shortly after signing said confessions. Clem could hardly have been called as a witness in David's defence, either.
"Feeling like a bit of a fifth wheel her xman." Faith said, while she sipped her drink. The Bostonian had never understood why people complain about airline food, it seemed fine to her. She was enjoying her new status in the world, travelling to exotic distant lands, meeting exotic unusual demons, and killing them, all while being on the right side of the law and getting a better salary than any member of her family or Xander's had ever earned. "With the new ammo demon killing is likely to be a lot duller."
"Well I think it's been interesting. Willow has gone from subject to personality altering drugs to dating a billionaire she thinks is fascinating."
"Apparently the first woman who ever thought he was fascinating, two geeks in love." His partner responded, took a sip, and then topped up her rum and coke. She nibbled on some cashews and olives as she listened to plan man talk.
"We now have proof that any reasonably well trained infantry can fight demons successfully, with the appropriate weapons and intelligence." Xander continued. "And Faith, tactical intelligence is still crucial, those things on the train could have killed a lot of people if we hadn't been able to just set up and wait for them."
"And I provide tactical intelligence and hand to hand ability, right?"
"Right." Anyanka said, suddenly standing next to him. She had teleported into the plane in full view of the other business class passengers, who stared speechless. "Oh, can I have some of that?"
The vengeance demon took Faith's drink and swallowed half before continuing. A hostess walked down the aisle with the drink tray, since that was what she had been doing anyway and had not training in how to treat people who just appear out of thin air.
"Has anyone said you two make a cute couple? But to business, Ray and Cathy are in my custody, screaming rather loudly actually, so you can tell Willow not to worry about them coming back Lord D'Hoffran still has an interest in her, you know." Finishing Faith's drink the demoness picked up more from the drinks tray, giving some to the slayer and pouring another for herself.
"Is that the only reason you popped in Anya, not that I'm not always happy to see you and have to write another 10 page contact report to the council." Xander added. The Watchers were fascinated that she kept appearing around him, demons doing that with friendly intent being somewhat rare in their records.
"Oh, no, its just an excuse to see you and the slayer really, and ask for a tiny favour."
"What favour would that be An?" He responded, expecting it to be something that would get them into MAJOR trouble.
"My Lord D'Hoffran wants Faith to organise his birthday party, he's coming up on the big 10,000 now and he likes her style."
"Organise a party for a demon lord and his retinue, the slayer is being asked to organise a party because a demon lord 'likes her style' is that right." Alpha one responded.
"Yes."
"Ok, but I'll need to know how many guest, what budget we have, the date, stuff like that." Faith responded.
"Good, see you." With a sparkle of lights she disappeared, in full view of the passengers, cabin crew, and pilot, who had been called in by one of the hostesses. They were staring at the space she had been in, and then one by one began to stare at the pair she had been speaking to.
"Faith, I think it's your turn to explain."
"I explained last time."
"Last time doesn't count, it was in Watchers council headquarters, they already know about it." Xander argued.
"But it still makes it your turn, and anyway I handled the appearance at CIA headquarters, that was a toughie."
Eventually Agent Alexander Harris, United States Secret Service, was stuck with explaining how it was just his ex-fiancee visiting. And arguing about who would pay for the drinks.
Faith was doing something no one who knew her would ever have expected. Something so bizarre as to be counted as an unnatural act, even by the standards of the dark slayer.
She was reading the English Women's Weekly.
"So Faith, planning to start the diet of the month, or learning how to make 15 things for your next great children's party?" Xander did not know the specific magazine, but he had noticed ones like it in Joyce Summer's possession. And Buffy wistfully reading them, for that matter, clearly wondering what about a life where things this trivial were important topics. Clearly, because the Blonde slayer had talked about missing a 'normal' life often enough for it to be clear.
"Article about Willow and Cordelia here." She responded, before picking her glass of champagne, Bollinger Grande Annee 1995 to be specific, up from the side of the hot tub. There was a dish of strawberries on the other side behind her, and, of course, she was naked in the tub. Faith was embarrassed, even ashamed, of various things, but being seen naked was not one of them. "Before and after shots of Red, with Cordy being given credit for the difference."
He picked up the magazine she was waving at him and read. The photo's showed an old high school picture of his friend, from the 'softer side of Sear's' days, next to one of her in a red satin evening gown with David Nabbit. The difference was mind boggling, and he just stood there looking at them for a second. He absently took a sip from the glass the dark slayer had poured for him.
"Wow, and, while I'm on the subject, what is this and how can you afford it?"
"Well it's 65% Pinot Noir and 35% Chardonnay grapes, matured for a minimum of 5 years, and ..."
"Faith, you're taking the whole secret agent thing way too seriously."
"Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Anyway we got a case of it, as a present from that nice woman with the chateau in Provence, be rude to wash my hair with it." They had saved a bunch of people from the usual slice, dice and raise the demon who will grant us eternal life, power, blah, blah, blah. One of them was them young widow of a French Zillionaire. $870 for the case of bubbly was not a lot, to someone that wealthy, the dark slayer thought.
"She just wanted to get into your panties Faith."
"And she did too." Faith always talked openly and in detail about her female lovers around him, a pattern of behaviour begun with the first one and not varied. She thought it improved their love life, and was probably right. "Not too good at it at first but she taught me about wine and I taught her about how to use her tongue."
He was still looking at the article. It was mainly about how Cordelia was ultra hot as a 'Personal style consultant' as a result. Apparently seeing the billionaire with a woman who was not being paid to escort him was such an odd idea that everyone had paid special attention and investigated. Researching articles on Willow led to pictures of her as she usually looked, which led to 'how was this transformation achieved' articles, and now Xander's ex-girlfriend was a company making mountains of money. Good for her, he thought, wondering if she still handled things for Angel and crew as well.
The simple fact of the matter was that Faith was far more comfortable with being on her own, or mostly so. She, like Xander, had hated her parents and not thought of them as family, but the xman had always had Willow and Jesse, he had built them into his family, his 'real family'. Later he had to stake Jesse, but gained Buffy and Giles, who was the nearest thing to a dad he had ever had, and Joyce, who he had something of an Oedipus complex about.
Travelling with him, knowing he cared about her and would not abandon her even if it meant his death, Faith had more family than she had ever had in her life, but the man himself was more alone than he had ever been in his life. So the dark slayer kept track of things in the 'Dale, and he tried not to make her feel inadequate by bringing it up all the time. It wasn't perfect, but neither of them thought they were perfect, just in need of redemption.
The usual number of people with purple hair was drinking Pina Colada and singing along to Werewolves of London. One of them was Oz, here because it was, after all, virtually a place of pilgrimage for werewolves the world over. Not all the purple haired would be werewolves were in fact purple haired werewolves. At least one of the dozen or so here tonight was totally human.
To be specific it was Reilly Finn. The former Initiative member was still in the military, still hunting demons, and had been asked to contact the werewolf population to do a threat assessment.
FACT: The military definition of the word 'Threat,' does not imply that you are being threatened. The level of threat is simply the capability to take action; technically an assessment of your most trusted ally is a threat assessment. The idea is that intentions can change overnight, but changing capabilities takes a while and is noticeable.
So far Finn was mainly hanging out and learning about werewolf society, which had drawn him to Oz. The musician was the only friendly contact the government had, and making unfriendly contact had been deemed a bad idea. Finn, not being anywhere near as stupid as he had been before Professor Walsh's drug treatment had worn off, would have refused the assignment if it had looked like triggering a totally unnecessary hostile response of that kind.
"So, Reilly, what do you think?" It was important, of course, to get as positive assessment. Humans had always been hostile to his species, and, as Oz was painfully aware, there was still a trade in werewolf pelts. A report that werewolves were not AUTOMATICALLY dangerous would be a major step up, from dangerous predator to people with an infection that sometimes made them dangerous.
"I think that your research into controlling the wolf phase needs to be supported, and make more accessible to other werewolves somehow. For that matter there has to have been other work done before now, that we have not heard of." Finn was explaining it the way he planned to put it in his report, the way he explained it to his wife as she actually prepared the paperwork. "If the emphasis is put on that then we can deal with violent individuals, rather than having a 'werewolves are violent killers' philosophy."
"Yeah, 'cause, 'werewolves are violent killers' leads to 'turn them all into fur coats'." He knew it was repetitive, but Oz nearly HAD been turned into a fur coat. Ok, maybe more obsessive than repetitive, but the possibility of getting the trade banned and/or suppressed was his reason for helping Buffy's ex-boyfriend at all. The group was enjoying the night, but it was a little bland, the price of controlling the wolf was having it always present to some degree.
"Hey, guys, why don't we go kill some vampires, that's always fun?" One of the women at the back said. She worked for a bank, which, made burning off the wolf's energy all the more important. And her loan collection approach considerably more aggressive then average, for that matter. Everyone immediately perked up, Captain Finn, as he now was, would tag along; it was all part of the assessment, after all.
Xander and Faith were in support of this operation, which suited them fine. Faith would still get to fight, and the younger Harris did not have to carry the responsibility of all the teams' lives for a change. Just hanging back with an SA-80 rifle took the weight off his shoulders for a while.
Some people grumbled about the SA-80 's reliability, or lack thereof, but he had used it before and found that, like any machine involving small parts in tight tolerances, cleanliness is next to godliness. Or not meeting godliness, as the case may be. Chambering the same round as the M16 meant they could use the new incendiary ammo, instead of having to blow the head off completely, as standard ss-109 ammunition often required.
It was with these happy thoughts, and for someone who felt the burden of command the way the former carpenter did only having to worry about himself constituted happy thoughts, the dark haired former zeppo stuck firmly next to his partner. Faith turning up with a sword had turned some heads at the base, but the men around her had hunted these things before, and been briefed on who and what she was.
The whole operation involved a dozen people, and ten Brits plus the dynamic duo, and was moving methodically through the castle, ensuring no hostile elements were left above them when they descended into the dungeons. It meant possibly giving away that they were coming, but since this was a killing mission, not a rescue, it was less of an issue. Definitely preferable to being caught between the hammer and the anvil, if that was the choice.
It was when they were going through the depths that the mission started to go wrong. Intelligence had led them to believe there was a maximum of twenty demons here, and at close quarters being outnumbered two to one was acceptable, with an adequate margin. They killed over thirty in the wine cellar in the first wave, and would have been overrun without discipline and the slayers sword work. It was no longer a demon hunt, it was survival.
"Sod this sergeant, we're running low here." Private Dumphy was still scanning his area, not turning away to speak. The firefight had made shattered kindling and broken glass out of what had been a collection of fine wine. Not that anyone cared, it wasn't there wine, and it had given them a better field of fire while slowing attacks.
"ROAR" something shouted, as the wall behind them collapsed and Johnson and Christianson, who were covering that area of the room cut loose. Single shots, aimed, not the fire from the hip nonsense you see in movies. Everyone who could turned about to engage, leaving the non-walking wounded to cover the rest. Retreat would mean abandoning them, which is why it had not happened.
With luck, the demons would run out before the ammunition did.
Huge green bodies lunged at us, even dying they were a threat with those claws and teeth, a last swipe could disembowel someone. That was how they lost the Lieutenant after all, and Wilkinson's arm. Faith, as usual, was trying to handle any that got into touching distance, but since they were holed up in what had been one of the aisles of the cellar, with ruins around that, she didn't quite have the reach to do without leaping over people.
Xander was filling magazines and clearing any jammed rifles, they had more weapons than shooters now and, with ammunition an issue, he had volunteered. Someone had to, and, without the years of experience with firearms of the soldiers, he would inevitably waste rounds that could not be spared. He was also thinking, of course, and making occasional 'suggestions' to Sergeant Smythe, who knew an experienced leader when he met one. It was keeping them alive, for now.
The attack petered out, as the demons couldn't scramble over the corpses of the ones in front any more. There were clumps like that all around now, which was giving every successive attack more cover for their approach. Eventually one would get through.
"What in the name of Ghu are they defending?" Xander asked. It seemed a reasonable question, and with luck he could speculate in ways that might boost morale a little. This had to have been something HUGE to justify this many demons being present, and continuing to come at them rather than just burn the place over their heads and leave.
After another three attacks, at around 8.30 that night, howling, unlike any sound the enemy had yet made, preceded the noise of battle from upstairs. There were no shots, just the sound of bodies smashing into things, thumps crashes, and it was getting closer.
"Stay alert, they may make another attempt. And whoever this is may or may not be any friendlier then these guys." Xander said, waving his arms around at the demon corpses to explain who 'these guys' were. He, like everyone else, was exhausted, hungry, and desperately thirsty. There was enough ammunition for a few more attacks, and then it would be hand-to-hand, where only Faith could realistically be expected to last long.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably minutes, demons started coming into view, as they backed into sight from the direction of the staircase. Actually, some of them came FLYING out the doorway, and all were shot as they became visible. Eventually the sounds of fighting stopped.
"You in there, with the guns, it's over out here, can we talk?"
"Well, that depends, who are you?" Xander responded, automatically asking what he wanted to know. He was, by now, used to being in charge, and had acted like it on this day.
"Xander, it's Oz." And with that the small werewolf stepped into the doorway, in his fully human aspect. Moving slowly, so as not to trigger the violent reflexes of men who had been fighting for their lives, he came in with raised hands. "I have some friends with me, can we help?"
Sergeant Smythe looked at the purple haired man, clearly suspicious at least as much as he was relieved. Who were this man's friends, and how had they fought their way in here? Before he could ask, a much larger man walked into the room.
"Captain Reilly Finn, United States Army, assigned as liaison to Oz and his werewolves." The sudden sound of rounds being chambered and weapons pointed made him stop suddenly. Speaking slowly and clearly, he added. "Hey, they just wanted to kill demons, heard about the ascension and stopping it seemed like a good idea."
The tired group around Faith and the zeppo were processing information slowly. That is what happens when you are too tired. None had had time to think about anything much other than survival since being trapped down here, Agent Harris's open queries not withstanding.
"What ascension, we were just here as a practice mission with the new ammo?" Faith asked.
"Well, the rumour was that all these demons were going to ascend to full demonhood." One of the werewolves at the back said, as they entered the room and started helping the wounded. A mobile phone call was bringing ambulances.
"What 'cha mean, ascend to demonhood, these here were already demons?" Private Hawkins, asked, as he was helped, actually more like carried, outside.
"Full demons are 60 foot long, or at least the one we killed at my high school graduation was." Presumably the ascension needed something in this room, or a ceremony in the room, he would think about it later.
"ALL OF THESE would have been that big?" Dumphy asked incredulous. There were bodies everywhere; count had been lost at 114, and the idea that each of them would have been that big... It was not a pretty thought.
"Why didn't you report this, why come with these, civilians?" Smythe asked. The werewolves were all looking pleased with themselves, they had enjoyed the whole thing tremendously.
"Well, the officer I report to was in a car accident, and his relief kept asking for proof, and all I had was Johanna's reading of the prophecy." The Johanna in question was a large woman, incongruously shy under the circumstances, smiling and giving a shy wave of the hand at the mention of her name. "Eventually I was told to send a full report for evaluation some time next month, in committee."
"Bureaucracy, gotta love it boytoy."
United States Secret Service Agent Faith Morgan returned to her world a changed woman. Meeting - and fucking, which now that she thought about it was wicked kinky - her alternate selves was an educational experience. Only one hadn't joined up as the Mayor's personal assassin, and she had been saved from that fate by an alternate version of Xander. That is alternate to the alternate of that alternate world, as well as from the future of that alternate and actually living in the past of yet a further alternate...
Anyway Xander had come through a series of alternate worlds to save her soul in that reality, just as he had been pivotal to her in all the others AFTER her Jail time. He was her constant, her salvation across realities and time lines, and she really did have to think of a way to let him know how much she appreciated it. How do you repay a debt like that?
"Well you could start by telling him to his face." Was what she said to herself, quietly. And maybe encourage him to be more than an extension of his work. After all, his last friend who was not also a colleague in the fight was Jessie, who he had staked the day after meeting Buffy. And that had been his last male friend for eight years, until John Clark and Domingo Chavez. Giles was too much of a father figure to really be a friend, after all. "A man who's only male friends are work mates, at least a decade older, and CIA killers is really in need of help."
The return was through Cheyenne Mountain, and my, weren't they ticked off to learn that their secret was out. On the other hand they were VERY interested in the new technology she had brought through from the mission, in particular the details of starship design and nuclear pulse rifles used by one of the alternate versions of the Stargate Command. And the fact, learned from a different alternate reality, that basically anyone could be taught enough magic to act as a human early warning and control center, that was going to get a lot of investigation too. Certainly General Hammond had spent a lot of time on the phone to Faith's superior, who had been calling other people...
Anyway Faith had the impression that the war against the demons and the war against the Goa'uld were going to be interacting from now on. She herself was looking forward to seeing Xander, and sat back in her seat in first class with a drink to think about it. The first class section was Willow's doing or rather her husbands, she had a credit card from them and instructions to always upgrade to first class on work related anything.
David Nabbit, Willow's husband, was, beneath his ultra-nerd exterior, both dedicated to the fight against evil things and aware of his limitations as a fighting man. So he supported those who chose to fight with the billions he had made from his business empire. He had the money to spare and felt, rightly, that living in poverty because no one knew or cared about them had to be an emotional drain on slayers and Champions of right through history. A potentially fatal emotional drain. Faith sipped her 12-year-old single malt Scotch, and thought about how here was another man she had to think of a way to thank properly.
It was mainly an Austrian operation, with the new Armor Piercing Incendiary ammo proven specialist anti-demon squads were felt superfluous. Faith and Xander were accepted only because a) Faith's enhanced senses and hand to hand skills were known to be valuable, and b) Xander's reputation as a planner of these types of operations was well established. Also he had a knack of inserting himself into the process at crucial decision making moments without being obnoxious or grating on others ego's. The last being a much rarer and more valuable skill than is often appreciated. Both had been subjected to what Giles called 'the Babel fish spell', whereby they could understand and be understood in any language they chose.
"Xman, what's a Babel fish?" Faith had asked when the idea was first mentioned.
"You never read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy?" Her lover responded.
"Can't say I have."
"The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy is the best selling book in the universe, for two reasons." Giles quoted. "One, it has 'Don't Panic' written in large, friendly letters on the back cover. Second, it not only tells you how to make a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, the best drink in the universe, it also has a comprehensive list of the volunteer agencies that will help you through the long years of recovery involved in having consumed one."
Faith continued to look puzzled.
"Never drink more than two Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters unless you are a thirty ton mega-elephant with bronchial pneumonia." Xander finished.
Faith had decided to not press on the issue of what a Babel fish was.
Back in the present, the team was pushing down the cave, NVG gear on in the dim light and making them look some demonoid themselves. Faith sensed a group of demons coming at them and reported it; suddenly there was a flare of light from the lead squad's firing. Then progress continued, and the dark slayer reported that a very large group of demons was ahead of them, in the ceremonial area. They moved on, to find a clear area with no demons, and started looking around puzzled when the floor gave in.
"What the Fuck?" Faith shouted, as they suddenly fell into the middle of the ceremony. She started swinging her sword without really having to think, slayer reflex taking over. Agent Harris stood back to back with her and did the same for the critical few seconds it took the troops to face outward and 'mad minute' the area. Un-aimed full-auto fire swept the area, and ricochets would just have to handle themselves.
The deafening sound of fifty rifles firing at full automatic continued for what seemed a long time, interrupted only by reloading of individuals and cleaved pieces of demon falling on people as the pair of Americans sliced and diced. There had been demons INSIDE the defended circle after all; and they had been just as surprised as the humans to have the roof cave in. Suddenly there was silence.
"And you say I never take you anywhere interesting!" The former Zeppo said.
They were ankle deep in multi-colored goo that had been inside various demons as the advance continued. Xander was, as usual, carrying the same rifle as the troops he was supporting, plus a sword. As was becoming embarrassingly usual, he had handed the ammo over to the troops as the situation went down the toilet. They were down in manpower and low on ammunition, and they had yet to reach the objective. Hopefully the opposition they were facing now meant there would be little when they withdrew.
'Just keep up that optimistic tone Xander, WHEN we withdraw, not IF, when.' He thought to himself. They were in an old mining tunnel in southern Africa somewhere; he had long since learned to focus on the mission critical stuff and not worry about things other people are paid to handle. Like the travel arrangements, negotiations with host governments, etc. With the Babel Fish spell even language changes don't come into his field, everything gets translated into English to him and the local lingo when he speaks, writes, etc. Everything.
He chuckles to himself about how long he had tried to work out what continent 'the city of the angels' was in, when he was told he was being sent there on leave once. When he arrived he realized what Los Angeles translates to in English. Did that mean whenever he told anyone his full name he was calling himself Protector of Man Lavelle Harris? He feels an elbow nudge him; it's Faith, a little concerned.
"You ok boytoy?"
"Just thinking?" He explains in his most serious tone. "I like to do that occasionally, for practice."
"Don't hold with it myself xman, it huts my head."
A standard response to a standard joke, and his attention reverts to the here and now. The wound in his side is not really distracting him, but the painkillers the medic gave certainly are. He really will have to get the spell modified; he doesn't know what drug they used, even though he was told. All those hours spent watching ER are wasted, since so many drug names are Greek and Latin derived, and it all becomes English, and what did that guy pump into him anyway?
There is the roar of multiple rifles, then the sound of steel slashing demon flesh. He steps around the corner of the tunnel, to the troops, to help Faith. There is limited room and the firing line is kneeling, allowing the two sword wielders to handle anything that gets to touching distance. They are coordinating very well for people who had so little time to practice, days not the months really required. Especially since the troops are mainly charcoal black, and it's dark in here. Only the uniforms make them visible to him at times.
With a last head fallen on the ground it ends, Faith and Xander standing guard while the riflemen reload. They wait while wounded are attended to, used magazines are reloaded from backpacks, water is drunk. Since they are coming in down the only entrance and the demons are alerted, being in peak shape or as close to it as practical is more important than speed. The ceremony is not actually due for hours yet, after all.
"Remember single shots, conserve ammunition, we have a way to go yet." The sergeant orders and they head down the tunnel. The lead element is rotated to the rear every so often, to give them a break. The former zeppo is still zoning in and out occasionally, which is not good but no one can be left behind with them low on personnel now. The main chamber is ahead, the place where the ceremony is to occur is an old staff canteen, underground to spare the time taken going to the surface and back again. Wealthy multinational diamond mining companies get that way by calculating all the angles, after all.
All the demons who had survived the advance so far were here, a varied group, varied in height, weight, color, weapons choice, and other things. But not by in their hatred of humans, of human civilization, in their desire to return the old ones to power. There was a delay of a second or two, and then Xander remembered a similar scene from Aliens, where the Colonial Marines finally realize they are surrounded by giant, acid blooded insectoids. He remembered the line spoken in response. "LET'S ROCK!" He shouted, and the deafening sound of three dozen rifles firing in an enclosed space drowned out all else. The demons surged at them, fortunately getting in each other's way at least as much as helping. With a mass like this aiming was almost irrelevant, a round that missed its target would just find another. The API ammo did not always kill with one shot, but it did not always STOP inside the first target either, so that evened out. The smell of par-broiled demon had been with them for a while now and was barely noticed anymore.
Moving forward over the mass of corpses was hard, but they had to check the area. Faith was invaluable at this; it was the prime reason she was along on these missions now, her search skills.
"Two more over there, about 7 metres, and three in the store room over there." She called out the locations of the demons she could feel; slayer senses focused and sharp. Teams were sent to deal with them, numbers, discipline and technology replacing the slayer's superhuman abilities. Which is a proven combination, as many extinct predator species could tell if they could talk, and weren't extinct.
Faith was watching TV, and Xander was doing some paperwork on his laptop. It was a mundane sort of everyday activity that she had come to enjoy. Most people would find it boring simply because most people often have nights like this. She, on the other hand, was beginning to understand the X-Files episode where Fox Mulders' great hidden fantasy is shown. His great, secret, forever to be denied him dream.
A house in the suburbs with a spouse and children.
Not that she was all that driven to it, simply that she was better able to appreciate it than most. She had been through more in her short life than most would ever experience and she could see why some people were not like her. And of course there was that little test the doctors had done, that she was awaiting the phone call about. Maybe that was what was causing her to think like this.
She looked at the rain outside, it rarely rained here but when it did it came down in torrents. She had gone to the doctor on her own, and been told they would call her here or on her mobile if she could not be reached here. So, on a rainy Thursday afternoon in her lover's hometown, she sat and watched Jerry Springer with a glass of mineral water. Xander had stared at her for that, but she had not told him her fear, what the test might reveal. The doorbell rang.
"Buffy, Dawn, glad you could make it." The elder slayer was a friend now, and had a hunter team of her own she worked with here. Dawn had been called when she reached the same age Buffy had become slayer at, so the hellmouth was well covered. There was serious talk of formally retiring the elder Summers, in fact, since the new weapons and teams were working out so well.
"Are Willow and David coming too?" Dawn asked. The pair was living in LA now, when not travelling on business, and only the blonde slayer saw them at all frequently. Indeed, the gossip columns were full of speculation about exactly what kind of relationship the 'old school friend' had with the newly glamorous Nabbits, and, in particular, the openly bisexual female half of the billionaire geek team.
"They'll be over later, staying in the penthouse actually." Buffy commented, clearly nervous, and it was something to wonder about. "They have an announcement to make."
Everyone settled in and talked about where they had been and what they were doing. Buffy had not dated in some time, her only socializing in Sunnydale was with Dawn, who had her own boyfriend, or the demon hunter team assigned by presidential order.
The younger Summers was finishing high school soon, and she had a series of boyfriends, none over serious. She had seen what her older sister's passionate involvement's at an early age had done, and wanted nothing like it until she was settled into a career. Advertising was her preferred choice.
Eventually Willow and David turned up, and there was another great display of gushing 'how are you, how have you been?' happened, David was now very much part of the gang, even if a looser gang than in high school. No one notice Faith answer the phone in the excitement. They did notice her trembling smile as she quieted them, though.
"Xander, that was the doctor, I'm pregnant." He was in shock for the moment, but this was not the insecure young man who had walked away from his wedding to Anya out of insecurity.
"So, Faith, will you marry me?" Was the dad to be's immediate response.
"You don't have to do this Xander, I mean, I'm not the kind of girl you take home to your parents." This was the first time any of them had seen her afraid.
"My parents were tortured to death by the patron demon of rape victims, in case you have forgotten." The rest of the room had not had that, or WHY it had happened, explain to them, not even Willow knew what the Harris's had done to their only son. Faith, who knew, just starred at him too frightened to even hope. Xander fell to his knees.
"Faith Morgan, I have done some stupid things in my time about women, and not taking any opportunity to make you my wife would top them all. I love you, I need you, I can't even sleep at night without you in my bed, please let me be a permanent part of your life."
They were both crying now, as was basically everyone but David Nabbit, who was waiting for a 'yes' before contacting his Personal Assistant to get the wedding arrangements started. They were his friends, and a tendency to respond to new situations in a practical, useful way was one reason he was a self made billionaire. It was the nature of the man.
"I'm not worth it Xander, I was whored out by my mother at 12, making porno's at 13, I was a professional killer for a demon, and I've fucked everything human I had a chance with until recently."
"Faith, you're what I have always gone for in women, and as a bonus, you're even human for a change." She was crying on the floor and he kissed her hand as he held her. "I've always gone for strong, independent women, I couldn't even see Willow as a girl until she changed. I never understood why I should think less of a girl because she got laid as often as I wish I did, and the Mayor thing was my fault for neglecting you."
The dark haired man was totally focused on the future mother of his child; the rest of the world didn't exist for him at that moment. She was slumped over him crying now, a river of tears to match the river of water flowing out of the heavens outside.
"Faith, the 'until recently' is important because you gave up other men, didn't you?"
"The trip to the other reality, I fucked the you there till he couldn't walk, well we did, the Faith's."
"Yes, the ME there, not just guys there, right?"
"Right." She said through her tears. "But also a lot of women, you know that, I bring home women all the time, I never gave that up."
"Yes Faith, and you know how much I resist when you insist I just have to have sex with that steady succession of beautiful women."
"About the way David does, I suspect." Willow said, confirming the rumors of what she and Buffy did for fun when the slayer was with them 'visiting'.
"It's a terrible strain keeping up, but someone has to do it, right Xander?" Was the self made man's first comment. He kissed his wife and her girlfriend. "The things we do for love, ah well, we endure it somehow."
"Faith, with the way the demon hunter teams are going the Slayers are becoming obsolete anyway. The prophecy that brought us together doesn't say we have to do it exclusively or indefinitely." He was winning her over; she was not crying as much and smiling a little. "Buffy can take over the mobile bit while you're pregnant, and David will pay for someone to come with us for childcare, right?"
"Actually I'm ahead of you on that, it seemed like a likely contingency so I planned it out. All I have to do is tell my PA to activate the plan, it's in my files." Shelly, his P.A. had actually brought up the idea, thinking of stuff like this was one of the reasons he paid her so much. "And we have a similar announcement to make."
"Buffy has agreed to have David's first child, and then me." Willow said, hugging her lovers. "We're making our arrangement formal, our just dating her in secret is a little juvenile, don't you think?"
"Secret Service Agent Alexander Lavelle Harris, yes, I will marry you."
The President attended the wedding, which was not the social event of the decade simply because the sort of stuck up snobs who would have made it that were not invited. It was instead a strange mixture of hackers and members of obscure and secretive special operations forces. The head of Russian Federal Intelligence Service spent an interesting evening talking to the teenager who had taken a virtual walk through his services tightest computer security to leave a happy birthday message, for example.
This intermingling led to some very interesting new computer games, and a far more serious approach to cyber warfare, but that is another story.