The debriefing process had become pretty standardised by now, and was run by Allan's squadron commander without any flag officers present. Apart from a few comments at various points - especially regarding the Second Inquisition - the debriefing went quickly. There was one other point of concern, though.
"Are you sure this Lorne can be trusted?"
"Hard to say for sure," Xander replied with a shrug. "He gave us no real reason to *dis*trust him, though, and it will be nice to have a source of information regarding demon and vampire activity." He smiled thinly before continuing. "After all, it's not as if we could dress someone up and send them off to infiltrate a vampire or demon group." Another brief pause, and the smile turned slightly sardonic. "Not unless it was someone we really, *really* hated, at least."
"Xander!" Buffy exclaimed, lightly swatting him on the arm.
"Sorry, Buff," Xander apologised. "I couldn't help myself."
"Soldier Boy must really be rubbing off on you," the Commander remarked as he scanned the notes he'd taken during the debriefing.
"How so?" Xander asked.
"I've heard Brits make that sort of joke before. Their sense of humour can be a little rough at times."
"The thing that really worried me, though, sir," Allan put in, "was those 'Second Inquisition' guys, not to mention the bunch that torched that hotel in Chicago - what did they call themselves again? The 'Defenders of Humanity'? What happened last night was strange enough without having to stare down an armed mob. Yeah, I know we're not supposed to let people take the law into their own hands, but protecting a demon hang-out was... unsettling."
"You went along with it readily enough," Willow pointed out.
"Yeah, because they hadn't threatened us in any way. I understand that, but a couple of the guys in the team were a little put off by the whole thing. What if it - or something like it - happens again?"
"Honestly, Allan, I can't say," the Commander replied, just a touch wearily. "All I can do is pass it on to the J-2, and see what happens from there." The J-2 was the intelligence officer - the J coming about because Operation Stoker involved all branches of the American military, as well as international contingents - who liaised with the FBI in cases like this. "Maybe something can be worked out, but until then, if that sort of situation arises again, it'll have to be up to the discretion of the commander on the ground."
"Maybe some sort of policy should be put into place," Xander remarked.
"Why's that?" the Commander replied, curious as to what would be suggested.
"Well, some of the more... enthusiastic... teams might end up standing aside for the fanatics, or worse, start passing information on to them. We really need information on what's being plotted in advance to be properly effective. After all, we operated pretty much on a day-to-day basis for three years, and we ended up relying on luck more often than was healthy for us."
"And places like 'Caritas' would be the source of any information along those lines."
"Sure, but not if word gets around that we're being indiscriminate about who we go after. I think what happened last night proved that there are demons who *don't* want to plot world domination, and I get the feeling that we're going to be stretched thin as it is without picking more fights."
"I'll pass that one up the chain as well," the Commander promised, before asking a question that had been lurking at the back of his brain throughout the debriefing. "What happened with Faith? You mentioned some sort of emotional breakdown just before the stand-off with the 'Second Inquisition' fanatics.
"That pretty much sums it up," Xander replied. "At the moment, she's at home, talking to Joyce and Jim about it, and hopefully, she'll come through it all right. Speaking of," he continued, turning to Buffy, "don't you have a request to make?"
"Oh, thank you very much," Buffy replied, just a shade archly.
"Hey, it was your idea in the first place," Xander said, just a touch defensively. "I don't want to take the credit for it."
"Or the blame," Buffy returned, to which Xander could only shrug. With a small sigh, she turned to the Commander. "Do you think we could take today off so we can talk to Faith about what happened last night?" she asked. "Apart from anything else, she probably really needs to know that she doesn't have to go through this alone."
The Commander flicked a brief inquiring glance to where Allan and Roy were sitting, which Xander noticed, even if Buffy, Willow and Oz missed it. <Smart lad,> Soldier Boy pointed out. <A good officer gets input from his senior NCOs before making a decision.>
<I would have thought that the officers simply gave orders, and everyone else - well everyone ranked lower than them, anyway - had to obey.>
<That's true,> Soldier Boy replied. <But it's a pretty foolish officer who ignores the experience of the senior NCOs.> He paused before continuing, and his tone was maliciously gleeful. <And said senior NCOs know any number of tricks to make life... difficult... for an officer who continually makes an idiot of himself.>
<How do you -? No, I don't want to know.>
<Smart lad,> Soldier Boy repeated, this time paying the compliment to Xander. <You'd have made a pretty good officer yourself.>
<Thanks... I think.>
That exchange had only taken part of Xander's attention, so he was able to spot the almost microscopic nods that both Allan and Roy gave in reply. "I don't see why not," the Commander said. "In fact, strictly speaking, Allan's team are on stand-down right now. The only reason they were sent out with you is that they were the most experienced team we have who weren't already deployed in the field."
"Yeah, but that doesn't include *us*," Xander pointed out.
The Commander shrugged. "That's true," he replied, "but after last night, you could probably do with some down-time. Don't get used to it though; it's not going to happen too often," he cautioned.
"I understand," Xander replied. "On a sorta-related topic, though; how long will it be before we return to regular patrols?"
"Probably as soon as you train up to standard," the Commander replied. "And if the results from yesterday are anything to go by, your shooting and unarmed combat are almost there. It'll probably be just a matter of getting your physical fitness up to that point."
The reactions of the Scoobies were a mixed lot. Buffy shrugged, Willow groaned, the corner of Oz's mouth might have twitched, and Xander winced. <You want to play with the best,> Soldier Boy reminded him. <So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that they want you to be able to keep up with them.>
"Don't worry," the Commander continued, "we won't throw you in at the deep end, but there will be a PT program that'll bring you up to the required standard in fairly short order."
"But we managed for three years," Xander pointed out, not really expecting much in the way of results.
"This will make it easier," the Commander replied.
Xander shrugged. "Wasn't really complaining," he said. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow. Don't worry, like I said, to start off with, the training will be pretty light."
Somehow, Xander refrained from pointing out that what a Special Forces unit might consider 'light' might be considered something else entirely by people who *weren't* Special Forces.
"Not looking forward to tomorrow," Willow mumbled as they left the room.
"Don't worry, Willow," Allan said with a small grin. "I'll have a word with the PTIs and get them to tone down their sadistic impulses."
"Thanks, I - hey!" Willow said indignantly, causing everyone else to chuckle lightly. She turned an 'et tu?' look towards Oz, who was chuckling as well. "You're supposed to back me up here," she mock-threatened him.
"Sorry," he replied, giving her a quick kiss.
"Just don't let it happen again, mister," she said with a grin.
"Now if you boys will excuse us," Buffy interrupted, giving Xander a quick kiss before grabbing Willow's arm. "We girls have some serious talking to do, and you're *not* invited. Just try to stay out of trouble."
"Yes, dear," Xander replied. Buffy's face lit up at the casual endearment.
As Buffy and Willow headed back to the house - probably with a stop-off to buy some ice-cream or chocolate along the way - Oz raised an eyebrow and asked, "What now?"
"While they're having their 'girl talk', I don't see why we can't devote some time to guy talk," Xander replied with a shrug. "What do you think?" he added to Allan and Roy.
"I can't see any reason why not," Allan replied, while Roy shrugged and nodded. "Besides, there are some things we want to ask you about."
As Xander suspected, when Buffy and Willow returned to the house, they were laden down with bags from the Post Exchange - basically, a shopping mall on the base - containing both chocolate *and* ice cream. "We're *never* going to be able to eat all of this, especially given that we're starting physical training tomorrow," Willow was protesting.
"We're not even going to try," Buffy replied. "Consider this stocking up for future demand."
"Oh, since you put it like that..."
By this time, they had reached the kitchen, where Faith, Joyce and Jim were sitting around the table, sipping hot drinks of their choice while they talked. "Hi Buffy, Willow," Joyce said, looking up to see who it was. "You're back early."
"Day off," Buffy replied in explanation as she and Willow loaded their purchases into the fridge, except for a few blocks of chocolate, which they placed in the centre of the table. "And besides, we promised Faith last night that we'd talk to her, so here we are."
"You don't have to do this," Faith mumbled, her expression drawn as a result of the almost complete lack of sleep she'd gotten the previous night, which had caused Joyce to insist that she stay at home and suggest a talk with Jim. Faith hadn't so much agreed to both proposals, as hadn't really had the strength to argue against them. Apart from anything else, Joyce had been in full 'Mom Mode', which would have rendered any argument futile before it even started.
"Don't have to - *want* to," Buffy replied firmly. "Subtle but important difference there."
The tone of her voice caused Faith to look up sharply, but whatever she'd been about to say was forestalled by the determined look on Buffy's face. Willow, too, was wearing a similar expression. "What she said," Willow added. "Resolve Face, see?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on Faith's face. "I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?" she asked.
"Not at all," Buffy replied as she and Willow took seats on either side of Faith.
With the NCO's Club closed, the four men decided to adjourn to the mess. After securing coffees for themselves, they claimed a table and got down to the serious business at hand.
"So," Roy began. "Any idea why Faith reacted the way she did last night?"
"Yeah," Xander replied with a nod. "A question first, though; Allan told me that there'd been a fair amount of detail in the pre-mission briefing. Did that include the events of a few months back?"
"Sure," Roy replied. "If I'm remembering it right, Faith accidentally killed someone, and ended up working for Wilkins for a while, killing two more people in the process, before - oh, right."
"What I want to know is *why* she started working for the other side; not to mention why you're so keen on working with her again," Allan put it.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Xander asked, his tone level, but there was a hint of hurt lurking in there somewhere.
"Well, didn't she try to kill you all? You especially, Xander. Some people might have difficulties trusting someone after something like that."
"Well, I won't deny that I might have a few Faith-shaped issues," Xander replied, a little grudgingly, while one had absently rubbed his throat. "But you now how they say on the TV cop shows when they're offering parole to some criminal, they say things like 'rehabilitated', and 'no longer a danger to society'? That's the sort of chance we're offering Faith."
"I won't deny that that might be a good idea," Allan said, "but those people have usually served time in jail first."
"Faith has," Oz put in suddenly. "Except it's a jail of her own making, which is probably harsher than any other type, and doesn't offer the chance of parole."
Both Allan and Roy nodded to acknowledge the point. "But that doesn't answer the question of why she started working for Wilkins in the first place," Roy pointed out.
"True; it doesn't," Xander replied. "But before I get to that, I'm going to have to go into some background, so bear with me." He paused to drink some of his coffee before continuing. "I've known three Slayers, and they've all been completely different people - which shouldn't come as too much of a surprise, really. Buffy's always tried to mix being the Slayer with her regular life - well, before Graduation, at least - Kendra was a lot more disciplined, and Faith... well, she sort of defies explanation. I don't know all of the details, but before she became a Slayer, Faith's life could best be described as 'awful'. So when she arrives in Sunnydale, and after Kakistos was taken care of, she sees that Buffy's got pretty much everything going her way - good friends, a good home and a mother who cares. It was pretty much inevitable that she's going to be at least a little jealous.
"It didn't help matters too much when she was simply dumped into the worst motel in Sunnydale. We didn't know at first, but I... found out later, and did *nothing*."
"There wasn't a lot you could have done," Oz pointed out.
"Maybe," Xander admitted. "But I can't help but feel that I should have tried. Maybe Giles had a spare room, or something. So, anyway, there's a fair bit of friction, and then the whole debacle that was the death of Allan Finch, which Faith tried to blame Buffy for. I gotta admit that there's a bit of justification in that; after all, she *did* throw him to Faith."
Allan raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you'd say something like that."
"I love Buffy, yes, but you've got to remember that being a Slayer doesn't magically make her right every time. She's still a person - granted, one with a few upgrades, but still a person - and people make mistakes. It's how they deal with them afterwards that's really important. I hate to say it, but Faith didn't deal all to well, although I must admit that our attitudes didn't help much."
"What do you mean?" Roy asked, intrigued.
"Well, Buffy was all in favour of turning Faith over to the police - an idea not without its merits, I must admit - Willow was going along with Buffy, and Oz, Giles and me didn't really say anything one way or another. So things eventually got to the point where Faith ended up working for Wilkins. One night, I tried to talk to her, see if there was anything I could do to help. Unfortunately, it didn't work out too well, and... well, let's just say Angel saved my life that night and leave it like that."
"Do you have any idea of why she ended up trying to kill you?" Allan asked.
"Hey, what is this - Good Cop, Bad Cop?" Xander asked with a wry grin before continuing. "No, not really. But if I had to guess - and this is *only* a guess, mind you - I'd say it was because Faith was under a *lot* of stress, and there I was, confronting her over it, trying to get her to talk about it. I guess she just... snapped. I guess the best way to describe it would be to say the whole situation was a flamingo-up."
"Flamingo-up?"
"'It's like a cock-up - only much, much bigger'," Oz replied. "'Parallel Universe', Red Dwarf."
"That makes sense," Allan replied with a light chuckle.
"I wonder what the girls are talking about?" Roy wondered.
"So, why *did* you try to strangle Xander?" Buffy asked bluntly. So far, the talk had gone reasonably well, even if Faith had been somewhat evasive about her life prior to being Called as a Slayer. Both Buffy and Willow had been curious about that, but Joyce and Jim both backed her up on that, which quashed any thoughts of pestering her until she cracked. That question was of some importance to Buffy and Willow, which made sense, since one was his girlfriend, and the other had been one of his best friends since kindergarten.
"I- I don't really know," Faith replied hesitantly. "I was at a low point at that time, when Xander came to me. First, I thought he simply wanted another roll in the hay," she continued, breaking off when she saw both Buffy and Willow wince at her last sentence. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"
Buffy waved off Faith's apology. "No harm done. Really." She and Willow had not been best pleased with Xander when they'd found out what had happened of the night of the Sisterhood of Jhe's attempt to open the Hellmouth - the bits they knew of, anyway - and being reminded of it so bluntly had hurt, even if only a little.
"So, anyway," Faith continued, "Xander just kept talking, and wouldn't shut up. I just wanted him to shut up... and I chose the most direct way of doing it, I guess." Faith turned an imploring look at Buffy and Willow - two of the people she'd hurt the most when she decided to work for Wilkins. "I don't know what would have happened if Angel hadn't shown up when he did... I probably would have killed Xander, and all he wanted to do was help me." While she had been speaking, tears had been gathering at the corners of her eyes, and after she completed the sentence, he control broke and she put her hands over her face and began sobbing. Acting completely on maternal instinct, Joyce drew Faith into a hug, rocking her gently backwards and forwards.
Acting completely on hurt-little-child instinct, Faith clutched Joyce in a hug of her own as her shoulders heaved in time with her racking sobs. Buffy and Willow started blinking furiously as they looked on, while Jim took a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee while he thought. It was a good thing, he decided. Faith was finally letting her emotions out into the open, rather than keeping them bottled up. While he thought the notion that letting emotions run free as a form of therapy was ninety percent psychobabble, he was convinced that there was a solid kernel of truth to the notion, and that he was witnessing that kernel in action now. He elected to remain silent, though, since the others were handling the situation at least as well as he was.
Eventually, Faith's sobbing ceased, and she looked around with eyes that were read and puffy from her tears. "I'm so *sorry*; how can I make up for what I did while -"
"Just do your best," Willow cut her off gently. "I guess that's the only way you can really apologise."
Faith could have been offended, but she saw the truth in that and nodded, not really trusting herself to speak.
"Here's a question I gotta ask, even if I don't really want to; why did you poison Angel?" Buffy asked, a little hesitantly.
"I didn't really know what the poison would do to him," Faith replied. "Wilkins assured me that it would get him out of the way for a while, and distract you while you looked for a way to cure him. Honestly, Buffy - *I had no idea*."
Buffy looked a little uncomfortable. "I guess I've got an apology to make, too - for that fight which put you in the hospital in the first place."
Faith looked surprised. "No apology needed - really," she objected. "It wasn't as if I gave you much of a choice in the matter; I wasn't interested in going along quietly."
"Not so much for that, as what I was planning to do if you *had* gone along quietly," Buffy pointed out. "I was on your case for killing a human, no matter how accidentally, yet I was willing to feed you to Angel to cure him. Kinda hypocritical of me, yeah?"
"Like I said, I brought that situation on myself," Faith said, waving off the apology, before her features crumpled again. "Willow, I'm sorry about holding that knife to your throat that time. I wouldn't have used it, honestly, but I had to look like I would, otherwise..."
"Otherwise the bluff you were running wouldn't have worked," Willow concluded. "I... well, understand probably isn't the right word, but since I can't come up with anything better, it'll have to do."
"Can you forgive me, though?"
Willow looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I guess if Xander can forgive you trying to kill him, then I guess I can forgive you that."
Faith's expression, which had shown the first glimmerings of hope, crumpled again. "I don't think he's gonna-"
"Faith," Joyce cut her off gently. "I'm pretty sure that Xander *will* forgive you. The boy - young man, rather - doesn't have a malicious bone in his body."
"That's true," Buffy put in. "If he could forgive my... inactions while Angelus was on the loose, I think he can find forgiveness for you."
"Really?" Faith's expression had changed again, back to hopeful.
"I'm pretty sure of it." Buffy shrugged before continuing, "Just to be on the safe side, though, I'll put in a good word for you."
"No nagging, though," Faith said adamantly. "If he forgives me because you nagged him into it, it's kind of pointless. He's got to forgive me because he wants to."
"Nag? Me? Would I do a thing like that?" Buffy asked, her expression an interesting mix of innocence and outrage at such a suggestion, causing everyone else - including Faith, to general amazement - to burst out laughing. "Would I?" she continued, more plaintively.
"Of course not, dear," Joyce replied, smothering her laughter. "But you could - still can - be pretty focused when it came to trying to get your own way." This comment caused more chuckles at Buffy's expense.
"Hmph," she grumped, slouching down in her seat in the approved position for a good sulk.
"Enough serious talk for now," Willow said. "So, Faith, what do you think of Jim?" she asked, timing her innocent-seeming question to perfection - just as Faith was taking a sip of her coffee. On cue, she spluttered, sending thankfully-cold coffee down the front of her shirt and halfway across the table. Joyce smiled and handed her a napkin to clean up the mess.
"Not funny, Red," Faith mock-snarled to a giggling Willow as she mopped up the spill.
"Maybe, but it *is* a valid question though," Buffy pointed out.
"Uh-oh, this sounds like the start of a conversation not meant for the ears of man," Jim said with a smile as he got up. "Will I see you tomorrow, then?"
"Sure," Faith replied. "I know you're going to say it's your job, but... thanks."
"You're quite welcome, Faith," Jim replied. "Although you're right - it *is* part of my job - but it still does me good to know that I'm helping people." With that, he made his farewells and left.
"So," Buffy said as she unwrapped one of the blocks of chocolate. "You were about to tell us about Jim..."
"How old is Faith?"
The question came as something of a surprise to both Oz and Xander. "I'm not really sure - about our age, I'd guess. Why?" Allan turned a look on him that could be best described as 'old-fashioned'; there were dinosaurs lurking in this one. "Oh. Silly me. Forget I asked."
"I'm curious about something," Oz remarked. "Jim's Australian, right?" When both Allan and Roy nodded, he continued, "What's an Australian doing on a SEAL team?"
"He's on exchange from the Australian SAS," Allan replied. "He's five months into a two-year deployment."
"He's a good soldier - good with his hands - and he has an affinity for explosives that's almost frightening," Roy put in.
"He's got some good stories," Allan continued, "although I'm convinced that about ninety percent of them is pure bullshit." At Xander and Oz's curious expressions, he elaborated, "When you were in Australia, did you spend much time in the bush?"
"About a week," Xander confirmed. "Why?"
"There's no such thing as drop-bears... right?"
Office of the Special Advisor to the President (Supernatural Affairs) OEOB, Washington, DC
The intercom on Giles' desk buzzed. "Mister Giles, your next appointment is here - a... Wesley Wyndam-Price."
"Send him in please, Alice."
As Wesley entered his office, Giles contemplated the situation. Despite the fact that Wesley had been a replacement for Giles after the debacle that had been Buffy's Cruciamentum, he felt no personal animosity towards the younger man. <Well, apart from the cowardice he showed at Graduation,> Giles reflected.
"You've certainly moved up in the world, Rupert," Wesley remarked as he took a seat.
"The same obviously can't be said about your situation, Wesley," Giles replied. That was undeniably true. While he could never have been described as 'vain', previously Wesley had gone to some effort to be neat and presentable, but that could not be said of him now. Although there wasn't any one thing that Giles could identify, there was definitely an air of scruffiness about him.
"That's true," Wesley conceded candidly. "When you spend two months living out of suitcases on a tight budget, there is a tendency for any previous peacock traits to disappear," he added with a small self-deprecating smile.
"Quite so," Giles replied. "Forgive my bluntness, but I would like you to clear up something that I've been curious about; namely, your actions and attitude while serving as my replacement as Buffy's Field Watcher."
"No offence taken," Wesley assured him. "Frankly, the reason I was such an insufferable ass was... well, I was inexperienced and completely lacking in the training normally given to a Field Watcher. In fact, prior to my assignment as a Field Watcher, I had been a fairly junior Research type. So, it came as something of a surprise when I was summoned to Travers' office and told that I was going to be the Field Watcher to the active Slayer.
"As you can imagine, my preparation time was minimal to the point of being non-existent, and consisted largely of reading the reports you'd submitted while on the flight from Heathrow to Los Angeles."
"I see," Giles said contemplatively. "To be honest, I can't really say that I am surprised that Travers would act in such a manner, even if his attitude appalls me. But after you arrived, I recall that you asked me for advice on how to handle the situation. Advice which, if I recall, you virtually completely ignored."
Wesley flushed. "Is there anything as stupid as a young man with a poor attitude?" he asked rhetorically. "I wanted to assert my authority as Miss Summers' and Miss Williams' Watcher - I can imagine that you were vastly unimpressed with me at that point, as were the young people I was trying to order around. And after that, there was Graduation where I - and let's be honest here - ran like a coward. Is there some way I can apologise to the young people who stepped forward and did something, instead of running away?"
"I imagine something can be arranged," Giles replied. "In the meantime, though, would you care for some tea?" he added, rising to his feet and heading towards the tea service.
"Please," Wesley replied. Thanks to the fact that there was an uninterrupted supply of water at the correct temperature, it wasn't too long before a cup of tea was placed before him. Nodding his thanks to Giles, he took a sip. "This is excellent, Rupert."
"Thank you, Wesley," Giles replied. "Returning to business, though, I imagine the reason you are here is that you received the message that was left in the Council's computer systems."
Wesley nodded. "Even though I made a complete hash of my assignment as a Field Watcher, there must be some way in which I can help. Apart from that, I was thoroughly sick of running and hiding - more from myself than anything else."
Giles took a sip of his tea while he thought. "We would be happy to have you on board, Wesley," he assured the younger man. "I must point out, though, that we will not be requiring your services as a Field Watcher, since that position has been ably filled by Buffy's friends."
"I can't honestly say that that comes as any surprise, Rupert," Wesley admitted. "Miss Summers - Buffy - tended to turn more to them for support than me. Not that I could blame her, really. Even if that weren't the case, I doubt that I would be accepted in any case."
"Would you accept a position in our Research Department, then? From what you've said, it would seem that that would be a position more suited to your abilities."
"Of course," Wesley replied, raising his cup in salute before taking a sip, actions which Giles returned. "May I ask how she is faring?" he continued.
"After a period of emotional turmoil - which is quite understandable, really - she and the others seem to have settled in quite well. In some ways, I almost regret not being able to continue assisting her." At Wesley's quizzical expression, Giles explained, "When the President offered me this position, I could not in good conscience refuse it. At least I was able to console myself that I was able to leave her in good hands - with people who care for her, even love her."
Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that you are referring to the group of friends that have been assisting her since her arrival in Sunnydale?" At Giles' nod, he continued, "And I'm also assuming that she has entered into a relationship? Interesting..."
"With Xander, yes," Giles replied. "And that will in no way distract her from her duties as a Slayer. In fact -" He broke off when Wesley started chuckling.
"I seem to recall reading in your early reports back to the Council your expressing doubts about the fact that Buffy's friends were assisting her in her duties," Wesley said with a smile. "It didn't take too long for your tone to change, though."
Giles' expression became somewhat chagrined. "Well, they proved themselves to be of great assistance, both in research and training, as well as the more physical aspects," he pointed out.
"You're quite correct - they were of great assistance. However, I should point out that the reason the Council felt that the Slayer should work alone, with only her Watcher for assistance, is that if the Slayer's enemies find out who her friends and family are, they could conceivably be used as hostages." Wesley paused before continuing, "However, if there is a group of young people capable of looking after themselves, it is Buffy's friends."
"They have proven that a number of times," Giles agreed.
"Might I enquire as to how Faith is faring? Assuming, of course, that she survived the destruction of Sunnydale."
Giles' expression became uncomfortable. "Ah. Well, yes, she did survive the destruction of Sunnydale. In fact, she woke from her coma shortly after Graduation. She's even trying to make amends for her earlier actions by returning to her Slayer duties."
"You're worried that she might not be entirely sincere in her repentance?" Wesley asked.
"No, she seems entirely sincere," Giles replied. "It is more concern *for* her, than *about* her." He quickly sketched out the events at Caritas, summarising the report composed and sent by Willow on the subject.
"Your concern is that her emotional well-being is somewhat fragile," Wesley summarised. "Honestly, Rupert, is there anything you can do that isn't already being done?"
"No," Giles admitted reluctantly. "But it goes against the grain not to at least offer assistance."
"Don't take offence, Rupert, but you're not a Field Watcher any more. You left both her and Buffy in the care of Buffy's friends - and Ms. Summers," Wesley pointed out. "You should trust that they can provide the necessary assistance."
Giles nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "I guess it must be a result of my training as a Field Watcher," he replied.
"I know," Wesley said. "And you were a good one, too. But it's out of your hands now."
The two women were heart-stoppingly beautiful, and they drew more than their fair share of attention as they made their way to the bar of the crowded nightclub. Tall and athletic, they were dressed in clothing that showed off their figures to the best advantage.
They were also vampires, in search of that night's meal.
As they wound their way through the crowd, they spotted two young men at the bar whose offers to buy drinks for a couple of young ladies were shot down. Their body language clearly suggested that they were quite drunk.
Three minutes later, they had wiggled through the crowd at taken up seats next to their chosen victims. A minute after that, they had accepted the offered drinks and were pretending to laugh at the cheesy pick-up lines employed by the young men. An hour later, whispered suggestions had the young men off their seats so fast that they almost left sonic booms in their wake.
At this point, other people might have been suspicious, but since the parts of the young men's brains that weren't marinating in hormones were gently dissolving in alcohol, the tiny warning voices were being ignored. As the vampires were leading the prospective meals past an alley, they each produced a small-calibre handgun from their purses and gestured for the young men to step in. They may have been only .25 calibre popguns, but any weapon can look like a hand cannon to someone staring at it from the wrong end. The bulbous silencers screwed onto the end of the barrels reinforced that impression, and the two young men had seen enough action movies to recognise them for what they were, even through the haze of alcohol and bladder-weakening terror.
<Shit. We're gonna get mugged,> they thought as they complied. It could have been worse, they rationalised - at least they didn't have a lot of money left. Of course, they only realised how fatally wrong they were when the two 'women' revealed their game faces.
One of the young men stood rooted to the spot in horror, much the same way as a rabbit will when confronted by the fixed, unblinking stare of a snake, offering an unresisting meal. The other was different.
Calling on some half-remembered self-defence classes, he leapt forward, intending to bat the gun aside, shoulder-charge the vampire to the ground and make a run for it. After that, he'd do whatever else seemed like a good idea at the time.
Unfortunately, things didn't work out like that. The vampire stepped aside before he'd managed to cover even half the distance between them, and her pistol made less noise than a hand-clap as she sent a bullet into his kneecap. The young man howled as he tumbled to the ground, but he managed to keep crawling for a few more metres before his strength gave out.
Ordinarily, a vampire would have seriously hesitated about shooting a prospective meal like that, for the waste, if nothing else. That was why she had shot him in the kneecap; it produced a crippling wound - not that she'd ever been in serious danger, but why take chances? - and it didn't bleed too much in the time it would take to complete her feeding.
"I'm mildly impressed," she told the young man as she advanced on him. His eyes were slightly dulled over from a combination of pain and alcohol, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next. The sight of his friend being drained by the other vampires could only be considered a heavy hint, and his mind was shying away from the sounds that were being made. "You tried to fight your way clear, instead of meekly accepting what was going to happen to you next. A brave, if futile, attempt."
His expression showed a brief glimmer of hope - hope which the vampire crushed with her next sentence. "Oh, I'm not going to spare you. After all the effort we went to, that would be rather silly, wouldn't it?" she continued as she grabbed the front of his shirt and effortlessly hauled him upright. "I'm still going to feed - well, actually, I'm not *only* going to feed..."
With that, she bit down on his carotid artery and began feeding, a process which was completed quickly. Still holding him upright, the vampire used a nail to open a cut on her wrist, which she held above the young man's mouth, now hanging slackly open. A few drops of blood dripped from the cut and landed in his mouth. He swallowed once, then convulsed before hanging even more limply - if such a thing was possible - from her grasp.
"Well, that was interesting," a voice from the shadows said, and the two vampires turned to see two male vampires leaping down from the lowest landing of a nearby fire escape ladder. Both were carrying M-4 carbines that had been... acquired from somewhere, and their purpose was obvious - they were the cover party, just like the two female vampires were the feeding party.
With the involvement of the military in vampire hunting, the brighter vampires had realised that their old hunting and feeding patterns were suicidal. If they kept to those, they might as well dust themselves and save the military the trouble and themselves a lot of pain. Apart from anything else, the risk of running into an undercover hunting team was just too great. So some of the brighter vampires had organised themselves into teams, where half of the team would find suitable victims, while the other half covered them.
The 'feeders' in a team would be armed with pistols, while the cover party would be armed with long-arms such as carbines or rifles. If they did run into trouble, the rifle-armed vampires would lay down some covering fire while the feeding party would either counter-attack or attempt to break contact. Even if they'd been too badly injured to make an escape, it was assumed that the soldiers would put a higher priority on eliminating active threats over staking crippled targets. It was a far from perfect plan, but it was certainly an improvement on the old way of doing things. Their enemies had started using modern weapons and tactics, and to survive, the vampires had to respond in kind.
Of course, the more traditionally-minded of their number complained vociferously. Shooting humans was a waste of food, they pointed out, to which the response was that, unless an artery was hit, the wastage would be minimal. And if a human soldier was shot dead, other meals could be found. It was also pointed out, somewhat sarcastically, that if one was reduced to dust blowing in the breeze, finding future meals would be problematic, to say the least. At that, the traditionalists had subsided with poor grace, muttering about how things were done 'in our day'.
"He showed some modicum of courage," the female vampire replied as the two carbine-armed vampires approached. "And besides, with things going the way they are, it seemed necessary. It's not as if we're going to overgraze the supply in any great hurry."
The two male vampires nodded to acknowledge the point. "In that case, we'll get this guy to a safe house before going back out," one of them said. "I believe it's our turn to find a meal this time," he added as weapons were exchanged.
Allan knocked on the door, and after a short wait, it was opened to reveal a somewhat dishevelled and obviously just-out-of-bed Joyce. "Sorry to wake you, Joyce, but I'm here to collect the kids for the excitement that is PT," he said apologetically.
"No need to apologise, Allan," Joyce replied with a tired smile, inviting him in. "Coffee?"
"Not right now, thanks," Allan replied. "Doing PT on a full stomach is a bad, bad idea - the results aren't pretty. Maybe when we get back."
Joyce nodded as she led him upstairs towards the bedrooms. The first door they reached was for Buffy and Xander's room, and Allan knocked briskly. "Wakey, wakey!" he called out cheerfully.
The only response was a muffled, "'k off."
"Tsk, tsk," Allan said mock-regretfully. "Such language, and at this hour of the morning, too." He grinned suddenly as he removed something from the pouch strapped around his waist. "You might want to cover your ears," he added to Joyce as he opened the bedroom door...
... and pressed the button on the hand-held air horn.
*BLAAAAAT!*
*WHUMP* *WHUMP*
The two pillows thudded into Allan's chest - obviously, they were the first throwable things that came to hand for both Buffy and Xander. Allan's eyes widened somewhat as Buffy, obviously acting on instinct rather than a conscious decision, charged, with Xander not too far behind, causing him to hurriedly step aside.
With no visible target in front of her, Buffy slowed down as her conscious mind began to start working. "Wha?" she asked muzzily, then she saw that both Allan and her mother were laughing heartily at her expense. "That's not funny!"
"Huh?" Xander mumbled as he stepped up beside her, still moving on auto-pilot.
"Look at those two snickering away like that," Buffy pointed out in annoyance.
"Oh." At Buffy's hurt look, Xander clarified, "I'm getting annoyed too, Buff - just much slower. After all, us mere mortals take longer to get started in the morning."
Before Buffy could say anything else, Faith's annoyed voice cut in. "All right, what the hell's going on here?"
That was too much for Joyce and Allan, and they had to lean against the wall in order to stay on their feet.
"Oh God, let me die now," Willow groaned as she leant against a convenient wall, since her legs weren't quite up to the task of keeping her upright. "At least then the pain would go away."
Allan and Roy, who'd joined them for their first experience of morning PT, exchanged looks. True to their word, they'd gotten the Physical Training Instructor - PTI - to go somewhat easy on them, resulting in a regimen that was a little easier than the one carried out every day by the regular military, and one that barely counted as warm-up for a Special Forces soldier. In fact, Allan and Roy were about to join the rest of their team to carry out their own morning PT.
What the Scoobies had been through was ten minutes or warm-up exercises, followed by a brief aerobic workout, then a two-mile run at a fairly easy pace.
Buffy and Faith had breezed through the entire experience, barely even breaking a sweat. In fact, they'd probably handled it better than Allan and Roy. Oz had a faint sheen of sweat of his face, and he seemed to be breathing more deeply than usual, but apart from that, he seemed to have also handled the experience fairly well as he helped support Willow with an arm around her waist. Xander stood bent over with his hands on his knees as he sucked in deep breaths, but at least he was standing under his own power, and looked to be recovering reasonably well.
The two SEALs shrugged - in time, their fitness would improve - and nodding to the PTI, trotted off to start their own PT. Shaking his head, the PT turned to the Scoobies. "Before you stagger off to breakfast, there's one more thing you need to do; warm-down exercises. If you don't, you'll probably cramp up and feel even worse than you do now."
"I don't think that's possible," Willow gasped as she levered herself off the wall with Oz's help and made her way unsteadily to rejoin the others.
After the warm-down exercises were complete, the Scoobies walked back home - slowly - to shower, change and have breakfast before starting their actual day proper. As Xander was drinking a cup of coffee while waiting for Buffy to finish up her shower, the phone rang. Since he was the closest, it fell on him to answer it.
"Hello? Oh, hi Lorne... No, nothing too drastic, just my first experience of military PT... No, it's not too much fun. So, what's up? 'New toys', huh? Yeah, that *does* sound interesting. I gotta ask, though - why'd you wait until now to call? Yeah, I probably wouldn't have appreciated being woken up at two in the morning, but still... Ah, right. Yeah, getting caught passing on information to us probably would be bad... Thanks for the tip; I'll pass it on as soon as possible... I appreciate it, really... Bye."
"What was that about?" Buffy asked, towelling her hair dry.
"It seems that Lorne overheard something interesting last night - a couple of vampires bragging about the 'new toys' they were getting, and how that'd let them stand up to the 'Pale Riders' - his words, not mine."
"What do you suppose that means?" Buffy asked, curious.
"I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say that the vampires were arming themselves," Xander replied thoughtfully as he drained the mug. "I'm sure the intelligence guys would be interested in hearing that," he added as he rose from his seat, moving to hug Buffy.
"Eew, sweaty, smelly Xander-hugs!" Buffy protested with a smile, accepting the hug and giving him a quick kiss despite her complaint. "I love you, you know that, right?"
"Of course I do," Xander replied. "And I love you, too."
"Good to hear," Buffy said with a grin. "Now, go and clean yourself up - you smell!" she added with a small laugh.
"I hear and obey, O Mistress."
The J-2 officer, an Army lieutenant-colonel, listened thoughtfully as Xander recounted the telephone call that he'd received from Lorne. When he'd finished, the J-2 nodded. "That would explain a report we received from the San Deigo police last night." At their quizzical expressions, he explained, "Apparently they found a body in an alley near a popular nightclub, which had been almost totally drained of blood and had two puncture wounds on the neck. It didn't exactly require CSI to figure out what that meant." The Scoobies nodded at that - vampire attack without a doubt.
"The interesting thing is, they also found a few small blood spatters... along with a single point-two-five calibre cartridge casing. If the vampires are starting to arm themselves, and we've now got two reports to indicate that they are, the teams will need to be more careful. That includes you, when you're declared fit for active duty again. I know, I know," the J-2 continued, "you've got a lot of experience at this sort of thing. But if the vampires are going to change how they operate, then we have to, as well."
"I wasn't about to complain, honestly," Buffy replied.
The J-2 shrugged. "I just though it'd be better to get the explanation in first."
"I've got a question which you might be able to answer," Xander put in. "When Lorne called, he mentioned something called 'Pale Riders'. I assume he was referring to the Teams, but what does it mean?"
"Oh, that's fairly easy to answer," the J-2 replied. "One of the benefits of being brought up in a fairly devout Christian household, I guess." When the others looked at him with politely blank expression, he quoted, "'I saw a pale horse, upon which was a pale rider, whose name was Death.'"
"You mean we're being compared to *Death*?" Willow squeaked. "The Grim Reaper?"
Oz's reaction was an understated, "Cool."
"Well, not you personally," the J-2 replied with a small shrug. "But yeah."
"Does that mean we can get unit patches made up?" Xander asked with a grin. "If so, I'm voting for a head and shoulders shot of the Grim Reaper over crossed scythes."
"Not my department, thank God," the J-2 replied with a chuckle. "But I'm pretty sure that if you put it to the Teams, they'd probably be in favour."
Buffy shook her head. "Don't encourage him, Colonel," she said with a smile. "An eager Xander starts off cute, but it gets old pretty soon. Just like a coffeed-up Willow."
On cue, both Xander and Willow responded with, "Hey!"
"Is it just me, or does this seem just a little paranoid?" Buffy asked, adjusting one of the stakes in the specially designed purse she was carrying. Designed for female Secret Service agents, there was room for two smallish - but large enough to be effective - stakes, a silenced Beretta and two spare magazines, along with a couple of vials of holy water... and more ordinary things like make-up, keys and money. She would have preferred to have the stakes, at least, more convenient to hand, but with the dress she was wearing, that really wasn't an option.
"Probably," Xander agreed. "But I like to think of it as being cautious. After all, there *are* things out to get us." He was slightly better off in the weapons-concealing standings than Buffy, as the jacket he was wearing allowed him to conceal his own silenced pistol in the small of his back - with the spare magazines and holy water vials in an inside pocket - and his two stakes were strapped to his forearms. So long as he remembered not to remove said jacket, anyway.
"So, how'd you manage to talk them into letting us have the night off?" Buffy asked as she and Xander entered the restaurant.
"Why, my natural wit and charm, of course," Xander replied as the maitre d' approached. At Buffy's sceptical look, he added, "Of course, the fact that I promised to be back before we turned into pumpkins probably helped." That was good for a giggle from Buffy.
"May I be of assistance?" the maitre d' asked.
"Reservation for two, under the name Harris," Xander replied.
The maitre d' checked the reservations list. "Ah, yes. If you'll follow me, I will take you to your table."
"Thanks," Buffy replied as she and Xander followed the maitre d'. As they took their seats, she said to Xander, "I must admit, I'm impressed."
"Eh," Xander replied with a shrug. "No big deal," he added as menus were produced and they were left to contemplate their choices. Before the maitre d' could vanish, though, Xander held a brief whispered conversation with him. The maitre d' nodded, and then disappeared.
"What was that about?" Buffy asked.
"You'll see," Xander replied. Shortly afterwards, a waiter appeared, carrying a tray on which was a bottle and two glasses. The waiter set the glasses before them before uncorking the bottle with a skill that spoke of much experience, and presented the cork to Xander, who looked blankly back at her.
"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked. "Keep it as a souvenir?"
"Well," the waiter replied. "Traditionally, you're supposed to sniff it, but I'd say that at *least* two-thirds of the people who actually do that don't know what they're doing, so there's no need to worry about it."
"Ah, the arcane rituals of the wine snob," Buffy said brightly. At the waiter's inquisitive expression, she explained, "My mother owns an art gallery, and she's hosted more than a few fancy get-togethers at which stuff like that happens."
"Connoisseurs, please," the waiter said with mock hurt, "not 'wine snobs'."
"Like I said, wine snobs," Buffy replied with a grin.
The waiter shuddered exaggeratedly before pouring a small splash into one of the glasses and presenting it to Xander. "And now what am I supposed to do?" Xander asked.
"Taste it, to see if it's satisfactory," Buffy told him.
"Hey, with what I know about wine, you could be serving anything short of vinegar and I wouldn't know the difference," Xander pointed out. "I just asked for a good wine." After a moment's though, he shrugged and took a sip. "Hey, this is good stuff," he said.
"I take it that the wine meets your approval?" the waiter asked dryly before filling the two glasses and leaving them the rest of the bottle.
"Such well-mannered staff," Buffy said with a smile. "Remind me to leave a tip."
Xander smiled in response and raised his glass in order to make some sort of toast. It remained unspoken, though, since at that precise moment half-a-dozen masked gunmen burst into the restaurant, brandishing automatic weapons. "Everyone, up against the wall!" one of them shouted. "Do as we say, and no-one will get hurt!"
"Great," Xander muttered at he and Buffy obeyed the directions, playing along to see what would happen. "I finally get to take you to a fancy restaurant, and guess what happens?"
"Xander..." Buffy whispered, her face a mask of concentration.
Xander, however, was on a roll. "It could be worse, I guess. At least it's not -"
"Xander!" Buffy hissed, the tone of urgency in her voice breaking through Xander's rant at the unfairness of a universe that seemed out to get him personally.
"Vampires?" he completed. "It *is* vampires, isn't it?" At Buffy's nod, he continued. "Bloody hell, Gary was right - he's *never* going to let me live this one down."
"I'll accept that if it means that you live through this," Buffy replied, falling silent as two of the gun-toting vampires walked past. "So, how do we handle this?" she asked, once they were safely out of earshot.
"Same as usual," Xander replied.
"Violence?" Buffy asked. "Well, it *is* what we're good at. I was just hoping for a break in the routine," she added as she brought her purse into a position where she could grab the pistol.
"And old folk say that today's youth have no values," Xander said mournfully as he leaned over to give Buffy a quick kiss, just in case... both of them shied away from that thought. "Ready?"
The leader of the armed vampires nodded to himself as he surveyed the scene. Things were going well up until this point - although they had to remain alert, in case someone wanted to play hero. He'd taken precautions against that, though, he reflected as he watched two of his minions patrol along the line of patrons against one of the walls, just out of reach in case someone got any stupid ideas and another finished herding the kitchen staff into the main area of the restaurant. The 'botched robbery' plan they were using as a cover was a good one, he acknowledged, even if the idea hadn't been his in the first place. Anything that would misdirect the police and make them hesitate before calling for the Pale Riders was probably a good idea.
There was something subtly wrong with the couple the minions had just passed, though. While everyone else was terrified and in fear for their lives, those two seemed more... *annoyed* than anything else. The sense of wrongness, though, seemed to be more firmly centred on the woman than the man.
<Shit! She's the Slayer - Summers!> he realised, recognising her from the fragmentary warnings that had been circulating the vampire community for a couple of years now, and that had escalated ever since the Sunnydale Graduation Massacre.
He was about to call out a warning when Summers and her companion produced pistols - she from her purse, and the man from behind his back - and shot the two closest vampires neatly in the centre of the back.
*Thwack! Thwack!*
The pistols were silenced, he realised, a fact that was fairly obvious, given how the sound of the bullets hitting the vampires' undead flesh was actually louder than the sound of the pistols firing. They must have been using some sort of special ammunition, too - while getting shot *hurt*, it tended to annoy more than to cause crippling wound. Unless the shooter was lucky enough to score a hit in the kneecap or the head.
<Blessed ammunition?> the vampire wondered, watching his minions clawing at their backs in a futile effort to remove the source of the pain that had them screaming and writhing in agony on the floor.
They didn't suffer for too long, though, as the Slayer produced a stake from her seemingly-bottomless purse. Two thrusts later, there were two piles of dust on the floor, and Summers was charging another pair of his minions, who were trying to get their carbines into a position where they could fire and stand some sort of chance of hitting her, while her companion hung back to provide covering fire for her.
Buffy finished off the two vampires they had shot and, ignoring her pistol, charged the next closest pair, who were fumbling with their weapons. They'd just levelled them and were about to pull the triggers, when...
*Thwack! Thwack!*
... their heads snapped back as holes appeared in their foreheads, and they crumpled to the floor, weapons falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. <Xander shot them past me,> she realised. <I know he's a good shot, so I wasn't worried that he'd shoot *me* by accident - really! - but I wish he'd warned me first.>
There wasn't much rancour in the thought, since she hadn't warned *him* that she was going to charge. <I guess that balances out, then,> she thought as she staked the two vampires before turning to the last pair.
With fractionally more warning than the others, they'd managed to raise their weapons to a firing position - one pointed at her, the other at Xander. She had barely enough time to twist violently out of the way before the vampire aiming at her pulled the trigger. A scream of pain from behind her announced that, while she'd saved herself, someone else hadn't been as lucky.
<I'm sorry,> she thought. <But if I'd been shot, I couldn't have helped anyone else.> Just then, the other armed vampire staggered back, dropping her weapon to claw at her chest. Xander had taken care of the vampire aiming at him, she realised as she staked the vampire that had shot at her, before finishing off the other vampire.
"Buffy!" Xander shouted from behind her. She turned around to see Xander running up to her, and - part of her was amused to see that he put her pistol on safe first - wrapped his arms around her in a huge hug. "Are you all right? I'm sorry that I had to shoot the other vampire first, but -"
Buffy cut off the almost Willow-like babble by placing a finger over his mouth. "It's okay, Xander. Really," she told him.
"Well, apart from the person who got shot, anyway," he replied, somewhat gloomily.
"Apart from that," she acknowledged, somewhat glum herself. "And why didn't you warn me that you were going to shoot past me?" she demanded.
Fortunately, he took it well. "Probably for the same reason *you* didn't warn *me* that you were going to charge off like that," he responded and, despite the seriousness of the situation, she had to fight down a small grin. After luxuriating in the hug for a brief moment longer, they reluctantly broke the embrace and made their way to where the civilian who got shot lay on the floor. They were relieved to see that she'd only been wounded in the shoulder, which - although painful and messy - was hardly life-threatening.
A small group of people had gathered around and were using napkins and torn-up tablecloths as rough dressings and bandages to stem the flow of blood. The wounded woman looked up, and seeing the expression on Buffy's face, cut off whatever Buffy had been planning on saying with, "Don't apologise. After all, it's not as if you shot me yourself."
Buffy nodded to acknowledge the point. "Still, I kinda feel guilty -"
"Don't," the woman interrupted. "These things happen. If it wasn't for you and your friend - boyfriend," she corrected herself, "things would have probably been a lot worse."
"You seem to be taking this awfully well," Xander remarked.
The woman grinned - although it appeared to be more of a grimace - and started reaching around with her good arm for her purse. The man who was doing most of the bandaging of her wound reached over and placed it gently on her chest before returning to what he was doing. She nodded gratefully and removed from it what looked like a credit card holder. After some fumbling, she flipped it open to reveal a shield-shaped badge, on which were the letters SDPD and a number.
Seeing the suddenly understanding expressions on Buffy and Xander's faces, the woman grinned/grimaced again. "Yep, I'm a cop. Me and my husband - who's also a cop, by the way," she said, nodding towards the man doing the bandaging, "decided to have a nice, romantic dinner. Which meant leaving our service pieces at home."
"We've never needed them before," the man protested as he tied off the last knot.
"Until now, anyway," the woman retorted.
"She's going to nag me about this for *years*," the man told Buffy and Xander gloomily. "Or until something happens that I can rib her about, whichever comes first."
"Hah! You're going to have to wait for years. When have I done anything like this?"
"Well, there *was* the time you -"
"Details, details," the woman said airily - well, as airily as possible for someone who'd been wounded. Turning to Buffy, she continued, "Those were vampires, right?" When Buffy nodded, she continued. "Then I'd say that makes your boyfriend, at least, a soldier. I'm not sure about you, though."
"You never did watch much news on TV," the man said with a small chuckle. "Because if you did, you'd recognise the young lady as Buffy Summers, and her boyfriend as Xander Harris."
"Hey, we're famous!" Xander said with a chuckle.
"Well, someone who gets both the Medal of Honour *and* the Victoria Cross at the same time is considered newsworthy for some reason, along with the reason they got the medals in the first place."
Before either Xander or Buffy could reply, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air. "It looks like our friends are arriving," the woman remarked.
"Oh great," the man grumped. "You ragging me about this was going to be bad enough, but all of our colleagues, too?" He shook his head sadly. "My life will now officially suck."
Just then, half-a-dozen heavily SWAT officers burst through the door. Seeing two armed people at a scene where shot had been reported as fired, they reacted according to their training. "DROP THE WEAPONS!" they shouted at Buffy and Xander.
"I think we'd better do what the nice people who have heavier weapons than we do say, Buffy," Xander said as he dropped his pistol and without being prompted, kicked it away from him. Beside him, Buffy did the same.
"ON YOUR KNEES! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEADS!"
"Isn't that going a bit far on a first date?" Xander muttered, unable to help himself. Buffy giggled, equally unable to help herself.
"Stand down, guys," the wounded off-duty SDPD officer said, sitting up with her husband's assistance. "These are good guys."
"Lieutenant?" the lead SWAT officer asked in some confusion. "What are you doing here? Are you all right?"
"Why am I here? That's a question for a philosopher," she replied. "But in the more immediate sense, you'd have to ask Mister Romance here. As for the other question; I've been *shot* - how do you *think* I am?"
"Sorry about that, ell-tee," the SWAT officer said, abashed. "I'll get an ambulance on the way. But you said that they're good guys?" he added, indicating Buffy and Xander.
"That's right. See those dust piles? They're what's left of six vampires."
The SWAT officer look at the indicated dust piles, and his expression became deeply impressed. "These two took out six vampires all by themselves?"
"That's right, but there's no need to be surprised. After all, they *have* done this sort of thing before."
"Well, not *exactly* like this," Xander muttered, embarrassed by the attention. The SWAT officer turned to him and gave him and Buffy a closer examination than he had previously.
"Say, aren't you Buffy Summers and Xander Harris?"
Even as they nodded, Xander resigned himself to a blown date and a long night.
Xander had been right about it being a long night - it was nearly eleven o'clock when he and Buffy finally managed to return to Mirimar, after making statements to the police and a brief report to the local Operation Stoker commander, with the promise that they'd make a more complete report on their return to the base.
There were promises of commendations and official thanks from the SDPD Commissioner, but they'd waved those off - or tried to, at least. The officer debriefing them was polite but insistent, and had been very interested in the fact that the reports of vampires arming themselves had been confirmed. Xander somehow refrained from pointing out the irony in the fact that they'd been the ones who'd provided those reports in the first place.
Once that was over, but before they'd gone to bed, Xander had an idea, and headed towards the communications centre. "Can I get a message to Lieutenant Gary Wilson? He's a SAS officer commanding a team in Los Angeles."
"Sure, no problem," the communication technician replied. "They should be getting ready to go out on patrol right about now," he added, checking his watch. "What message do you want to send?"
When the decision to deploy Special Forces units into American cities to hunt vampires had been made, the National Guard armouries had been chosen as locations to base the patrol units at. The only modifications required had been to beef up the security - which the SF units provided themselves - and to upgrade the communications facilities.
Lieutenant Wilson was carrying out the final pre-patrol inspection when one of the National Guard soldiers who operated the communication equipment approached him, but didn't salute, since Gary was in civilian clothing. "Message for you, sir."
"I wonder what this is about," he mused to himself as he accepted the message and dismissed the soldier. After reading it, his expression became confused for a second before he burst into laughter.
"Sir?" the patrol second-in-command asked quietly. Still laughing, Gary handed him the message form. The sergeant read the message before breaking into laughter himself. Like his commander, he'd been present at Caritas a couple of nights before.
The message form fluttered to the ground as the sergeant was laughing too hard to hang on to it. It read:
'TO: LT Gary Wilson, OIC Team 12
'FROM: Xander Harris
'Yeah, yeah - you were right, smart-ass.'