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(This is original story written by Chris Kenworthy, based on the Buffy characters, who he does not own etcetera etcetara...)
Then again, there were silver linings to a job like this. You got a good sense of the vampire mindset, and though many people might not consider that an inducement, Xander did, since his friends were who they were. Even the drink orders could be telling. Lord Mystos had specifically requested fresh human blood in a golden goblet, with a half-teaspoon of Stygian juice shaken in. Xander had chosen to bleed himself for Lord Mystos' convenience, rather than passing it on to any of the other humans about the Bronze. If Xander got anemia, he would be allowed to rest and recover rather than be bled until he died. Aside from Cordelia, none of the rest of the staff were so fortunate.
And then, there were the things you could overhear at the Bronze, if you were careful about it. "Will there be anything else, sirs," he muttered, giving himself an excuse to stay close while Lord Mystos rattled on.
"Master Luke, all he can say is 'Have faith in the Fireking. There are no Slayers in Sunnydale.' But someone has been attacking my legion. If not a slayer, then the resistance or would-be vampire hunters. And I say we must root the threat out and destroy it, here and now! Before one more of the brethren is lost!!"
A chorus of loud cheers met Mystos' speech. Over the past several days, 'slayer paranoia' had spread like wildfire amongst the lower and middle-ranked vampires of Sunnydale. Mystos was the first vampire captain Xander had ever heard succumb to it, though. And that worried him, as he went back into the kitched to fetch fine red wine for two of the least of Mystos' retinue. Every vampire granted the rank of 'Captain' had more than sixty vampires under his command in Sunnydale, Xander had once heard. If they all worked to track the attacks to their source, was it possible that they could succeed?
For, of course, Xander was very well acquainted with the 'Sunnydale Slayer,' though she wasn't really a vampire Slayer at all in the strictest sense. It had even been his own idea in the first place that Cordelia Chase, his friend, ex-girlfriend, and co-conspirator, dress up as a Slayer and attack the lowly vampires of the Hellmouth, striking fear into their hearts and confusion into the ranks.
I'll have to tell Vanessa about this, he decided, wondering when he would next have a chance to send a message to the leader of the Resistance.
* * * *
Near a small farming village in the less civilized reaches of South Africa, a foreigner was trying to communicate with a native.
The native was dark-skinned and dark-haired, as all of his village were, a man in his early thirties. A farmer, who made a living for himself and his family, meagre as it was, out of the soil.
The foreigner's skin was pale, and her hair was a reddish-gold that shone in the twilight. She seemed not even out of her teens, and quite delicately beautiful in a way. She held some kind of device in her hands while conversing, with buttons and a reflective patch, and she often pressed the buttons and read off of the reflection.
Soon she thanked the native, haltingly, for his assistance and moved back to her travelling companions, who had stayed at a distance so as not to surround the local man with too many strange faces.
"So? How did it go?" Buffy asked.
"Well," Willow stalled by folding up the electronic phrase and word translator and stowing it in one of her bags, "he did say that there's a 'crazy man' who's passed through. Not crazy as in totally insane, for all I can figure. Just... doing things that nobody around here could see the point in. Suggested we could probably find him up on the hillside to the north."
"'Doing things that nobody around here could understand,'" Marea repeated thoughtfully. "Sounds like it could be a watcher to me!"
"I agree," Angel whispered softly.
"So, well, no time to waste, is there?" Willow said, a determined look on her face. Then the young girl suddenly did a double-take. "Angel?? When did you get here!?"
"Just about now," the vampire told them with a trace of a smile. Angel didn't take pride in much, but his ability to move about without being noticed was one skill that normally brought him some small amount of pleasure. Unless, of course, he dwelled on the times his demon double had used the same abilities to murder. (Like Jenny Calendar.) "Set out as soon as the twilight faded enough that I'd be safe."
"Oh," Willow said, blushing a little. "That's, um, good. Means we don't have to go back and get you, huh?"
"Well, no," Angel replied with a small smile.
As they set out for the hill Willow had been told about, Buffy thought about the body language of her two friends in the scene that had just played out. No matter how much she tried to hide it, Willow was still attracted to Angel. That was why she had gotten so much more nervous when she realized he had shown up.
Angel, on the other hand... well, he liked Willow, as he always had. But he knew that he had to let her take the lead on this. Angel and Willow had gotten together before, and it had self-destructed spectacularly when they realized that Willow wanted from him something that Angel could no longer afford to give - his true love.
As the hike continued, Buffy decided to put the matter out of her mind. It was none of her business, after all. But thinking about couples and love got her started on her own sweetie - Xander. Which was a pretty bittersweet line of thought. On the one hand, Jenny Calendar and Giles, (the ghosts of,) had finally perfected the alignment in Elysium, the spirit realm where they lived and Buffy's close friends could visit. So Xander and Buffy could touch each other there, which had been a great comfort over the past few days.
But it didn't really ease the pain of being seperated from the young man she loved. When Buffy opened her eyes, really opened them on the real world, Xander wasn't there. The things that Buffy had to do now, the boy she wanted to be with wasn't a part of, and that fact was a constant ache in the vicinity of her heart.
"Just two more months, now," she whispered to herself. In that much time, she would be reunited with Xander.
Or she would be 'cut down, never to rise again.'
* * * *
"Boy!" There was no immediate response to the syllable, and Jasper St. Clair sighed angrily. "Boy, you know who you are, however much you resent your new name, and you know that you are to come when I call for you!"
But just then Akira Tojo stepped smoothly into view at Jasper's doorway, his face not letting any frustration at being called 'boy' show. (He felt it, quite keenly. After all, Akira was thirty-six and Jasper had the face of a twenty-year-old frat boy, the really insufferable type. But letting the vampire count rile him in so trivial a fashion was a satisfaction the watcher would not surrender easily.)
Instead, his face was the quintessence of solicitous apology. "Excuses, please, Lord St. Clair," he said with the utmost politeness. "I was in the basement archives, but came as quickly as I could."
"Hmmph," Jasper hmphed, disgruntled that his complaint against Tojo had evaporated so quickly. "Well, come in, boy. I have a new project for you." Tojo stepped deferentially into the room. "Oh, come on, none of that, I'm not in the mood. At ease, watcher, and take a seat."
Tojo relaxed his body ever so slightly and lowered himself into the plush chair St. Clair had indicated, trying not to betray his confusion. Jasper had never before relaxed on the discipline he insisted of human 'slaves.' Why was he doing so now? There was a slight trace of a smile around his mouth, that Tojo thought might betray the anticipation of some sadistic pleasure, but what?? He smiled back somewhat blankly.
"So, tell me, Sir Tojo," Tojo double-taked at the way Jasper was addressing him before he could help it. "Have you heard of the 'Resistance?'"
"Um?" Tojo muttered, not quite sure for a second how to reply to it. "A very few rumors, sir. Word filters in even to the citadel."
"Of course," Jasper agreed. "Well, I know not what tidings you have heard, but the Resistance is not only the stuff of rumors. It is quite real. And of course, we can not suffer such an organization to threaten the Fireking's plans."
"No, of course not, sir," Tojo replied automatically. He had to protect the fact that he was himself a part of the Resistance, though somehow he wondered if Jasper already suspected that fact.
"To destroy the Resistance would be, I am sure, a petty matter, considering the legions we have already gathered here at the Hellmouth," Jasper continued. "It is merely a matter of finding them. A task, I have realized, particularly suited to your talents, Sir Tojo."
What?? "My talents??"
"But of course, Sir Tojo." Jasper's sadistic smile was unmistakeable now. "Investigating a pattern of suspicious activity, identifying your enemy, tracking it or them down to a particular location, and co-ordinating a mission to eliminate them - all of this has been a part of your training as a Watcher. Why should you not do this??"
"I..." Tojo spoke honestly before he could censor himself. "With all due respect, General St. Clair, the Resistance is no enemy to me. I serve you here in the archives because it is required of me, but my sympathies are with the forces of humanity."
"I know," Jasper shot back, not disappointed in the least. "That's what makes it so perfect! But lest you misunderstand, Tojo, I should clarify one point. This assignment - rooting out the Resistance, is a part of the service that is required of you by the Council of the Dead. Obayana himself approved your reassignment - he was tickled pink by the idea, in point of fact. If you should either refuse, or attempt to sabotage your new mission, well," he shrugged. "Then the immunity you presently enjoy could be removed. You're just an ex-watcher - the Fireking doesn't particularly care about having you present to witness his victory."
Jasper chuclked cruelly, and Tojo remembered in a flash that that used to be his name characteristic - Jasper the Cruel. "Only the boy must be spared - long enough to see the dead body of the Slayer he loves."
Jasper's laughter rang in Tojo's ears as the vampire guards dragged him back to his tiny chamber.
* * * *
WHAMP!
Buffy had been caught by surprise, but she managed to duck, just enough. The huge, solid heavy club, brutally adorned with metal spikes, crashed into a solid treek trunk, passing just above her head.
"Hey, watch the hair!" she joked, not knowing if this goon would understand the reference, or even understand her language. So she fell back on the universal language of violence, landing her best right hook on the boogeyman's ugly face.
The beastie didn't hardly seem staggered, and Buffy's fist was now smarting something fierce.
The Slayer dodged another swing of the club and considered her options. This guy hardly seemed like a decent challenge to her abilities, but he was tough enough to be hard to put away bare-handed and just good enough with his weapon to be a danger. So... "Sword?? Can anyone get me a sword??" she called out, not expecting much.
"Kin-da busy here," Willow yelled, defending herself from another monster. "But... but my weapons bag is over there." She waved desperately at an unoccupied path on the ground, close to Buffy's melee. "I... ugh." She shook off a kick to the gut. "I think I gotta short in there, if you can get to it."
"Can I?" Buffy repeated. With practiced ease she cartwheeled away from her opponent, opened the weapons bag, and quickly snatched out a thin, sharp implement about two feet long, and started wielding it against the goon. It was effective at blocking the club's blows, if used carefully, (since it wasn't nearly as massive as the goon's weapon,) but didn't seem to have much effect when slashed against his arm. Buffy's combat mind instantly analyzed the problem - not nearly a keen enough edge. "God, Will, when did you last sharpen this thing??"
"Sheath. Sheath!!" Willow yelled at her, and suddenly Buffy realized that the error had been hers - she'd never even thought of removing the protective covering around the blade, which kept it from slicing up Willow's bag. "Oops, right." In a second the sheath was gone, and the boogeyman was then short work. "Who next?"
"I'm doing fine," Marea managed to pant out, parrying a short axe with a tree branch. "Help Angel."
So Buffy dispatched Angel's goon, and went on to double-team Marea's beastie as Angel helped Willow out. "What were these things??" Marea asked once all the fighting was over.
"Orcs, I think," Willow explained. "Quarter-demon humanoids. There's probably a clan of them living in the mountain caves, which would be why Samuel Zebuto is hanging around this area. Investigating the situation, trying to determine if they pose a serious threat to the villagers or not."
"Exactly right, young Miz Rosenberg!!" a new voice called out. The four travellers turned to see a bearded man, dark-skinned and wearing black, leaning on a long, thick staff.
"Doctor Zebuto, I presume??" Buffy asked him.
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