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Disclaimer: Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: the Series are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, the WB, and UPN.

Part III

The tires were repaired as promised (one of the areas where Andy had succeeded in satisfying his solitary tenant’s demands, though she had voiced pointed criticism of his shortcomings in other areas), and so immediately upon sunset, Cromwell’s new Slayer emerged from her lodgings and drove to Doc’s house. The owner was waiting with an open door and a forbidding expression. “You weren’t answering your room phone,” he said as she came up the walk.

“I unplugged it,” she told him firmly. “My time is my time. At night I hunt, during the day I don’t want anybody bothering me.”

She stepped inside without invitation, and he followed her to the living room. “And yet you must have plugged it in long enough to wake up Andy and order him to bring you cheesecake,” he said.

“But that didn’t bother me,” she answered. “Except he brought one with strawberries instead of cherries —”

“If your active hours are limited,” Doc interrupted, “then it’s all the more important that I be able to communicate with you during your … downtime. I’ll tell the others to respect your privacy, but you need to keep the phone plugged in from now on.”

“Do I?” She gave him a smile that promised nothing good. “Okay, I’ve seen sour faces before, and yours is about more than a phone. So what is it?”

“I won’t mince words,” Doc told her. “You’re to stay away from Katie. What happened last night —”

“— was probably going to happen to the first person who went sniffing around that stable,” she said. “You should be thanking me for being there, instead of acting like it’s my fault.”

He shook his head. “All the same, I don’t want her around you anymore.”

“The world’s full of things you don’t want, Doc.” Buffy parked herself in one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room, hanging a denim-clad leg over the armrest. “I bet having a daughter who wants to be the first woman on Delta Force sits on the list somewhere. Personally I think the Midget’s a brain case, but she’s kind of fun to have around. Tell her she can’t hang with me. It probably won’t work … but, trying to give me orders?” She tilted a sharp-toothed grin at him. “Definitely won’t.”

Doc sighed and sat down as well. “There was another attack last night.”

That got her attention. “Really? So which bizarre disease was it this time?”

“Not a disease,” Doc said. “A physical assault, and probably not the same things you and Katie fought. We had to call in a life-flight to carry one of our people to the nearest trauma center. A night watchman, left lying under the street lights in the town square where nobody could miss him.” Doc rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t see him myself, but from the reports I think he must have been attacked by a vampire. Neck punctures, heavy blood loss but no excessive blood at the scene … He’s not expected to live.”

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. “No kidding? He must have been weaker than I …” She faltered, recovered. “I mean, that must have been one feeble vampire. Usually they kill you straight out, unless they’ve got a reason to go easy. Like playing, or trying to keep a low profile.”

Doc was not reassured. “According to Katie, you said the demons you fought weren’t the same as the ones that killed the horse, and that there must be some central organizer directing their actions.” He looked to her. “Now we have vampires here, too. This is too big for us, isn’t it? Even with your help, how can we beat such odds?”

“I wouldn’t worry about the vampire,” Buffy said positively. “I mean, you get vampires working with other demons sometimes, but they really don’t like it. Plus, this place is totally the wrong scene for vampires, they boogie to the big-city beat.” She locked her eyes to his. “Trust me, the vampire who did this is just passing through. She — or he, because it totally could be a guy — won’t hang around longer than a week. Count on it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Doc asked her.

She sniffed. “Please, I do this for a living. Besides, any vampire in the neighborhood would scoot for the bright lights once he heard there was a Slayer in town … which, if I’m around as much as a week, you can bet will happen.” She scowled in abrupt, seemingly causeless irritation. “People just never get enough of talking about the Slayer … So, where are the rest of the wannabe Scoobies?”

“Excuse me?” Doc said. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“People who work with the Slayer,” Buffy explained. “They call themselves the Scooby Gang. Don’t ask me why, because I never understood it. That would mean the whole group was built around a big, stupid dog, only since it’s the Slayer it would be a big, stupid she-dog —” She stopped. “Actually, that makes sense. Yeah, it makes a lot of sense.”

“Ah. You mean Katie and Andy, in addition to me.” Doc glanced toward the stairway. “Katie slept most of the day so she’d be alert for night work. I told Andy to join us … well, about ten minutes from now, I wanted to have time to speak with you.”

“Right,” Buffy said. “I wouldn’t count too much on Andy. He doesn’t strike me as the type to have much … staying power.”

Had Doc’s face not been set so severely, the twitch at his mouth might have looked like the precursor to a smile. “And you reached that conclusion in less than a day. Most women require weeks to see that far into his character. Sometimes longer.”

“I’m pretty smart,” Buffy said cheerfully. “And why wait weeks when you can find out right away?” Doc looked perplexed, but she went on without seeming to notice. “Most women, you said. So he must not have been married long.”

“Seven years,” Doc said. “But he and Judith only moved here about two years ago.”

He could see the blankness in her face, but she worked it out within a few seconds. “Oh. Oh, yeah. So he’s been cruising his way through the ladies since him and wifey got here. Sure, I can see it, he’s a total horn-dog and he’s pretty enough there’d be plenty who wanted to try him on …” She gave Doc a crafty look. “What’s she think of that? Or is she too dumb to notice?”

“Not at all,” Doc objected. “She’s far from stupid, she —” He caught himself. “We’ve gotten off the subject. This isn’t the time for vulgar gossip.”

“Okay, now that’s just silly,” Buffy said. “Gossip is what people say about you behind your back, meaning how they really feel. If I’m going to work with Andy, I need the full scoop. Go ahead, give me the dish.”

Doc’s expression showed resistance, but there seemed to be a pressure inside him to add to the Slayer’s urging, and at last he surrendered. “If it weren’t for the fact that his wife is involved, and we need all the help we can get, I wouldn’t willingly associate with Andy Sexton for five consecutive minutes. If he ever had the faintest tinge of character, he abandoned it long ago in favor of getting by on charm.”

Buffy nodded. “Good dirt, but not what I asked. Does his wife not know he’s screwing around on her, or does she just not care?”

“Judith is Catholic,” Doc said. “By conviction, not just by upbringing. To her, marriage is a holy compact with God, a lifelong commitment. She’s known almost from the beginning that she made a mistake, but she won’t shrug away her promises. She’ll stand by him until one of his fast-and-loose schemes lands him in prison, and she’ll keep honoring her vows even after that. When someone like Judith says ‘so long as we both shall live’, she means it.”

Though he had early recognized that the Slayer’s intelligence was sharply limited, she had a predator’s instinct for weakness. “Not like your wife, huh?”

His face stiffened. “Katie’s mother made her own choices, for her own reasons. That was years ago, and it has nothing to do with our situation now.”

She smiled at that. “Uh-huh. Well, I won’t disagree when you say Andy’s a loser. I hadn’t met him more than ten minutes before he was sounding off about what a big deal he was going to turn that crappy motel into. I thought he was just making noise till he could get me off for a little fun-session with his buddy — that’d be you — but even then I knew not to take him seriously.”

“The motel is actually a sound investment,” Doc said. “Judith financed most of it from the sale of her family’s home, after her mother died, and one of her conditions was that she have final say in business decisions. She was honest when she came to work for me that she was doing it for a supplementary income until the motel was in full operation, that she’d leave once it had built up enough business. I accepted because she was up-front from the beginning, and because of her credentials — she’s four years older than Andy, she finished business school right after they were married — and I’ve never had cause to regret it.” His face relaxed into the hint of a smile. “She’s been totally reliable, uncompromisingly trustworthy, unfailingly upbeat no matter how dismal her home situation —”

“Got it, she’s a gem,” Buffy said. “Have you been boning her?”

Doc froze as if he had stared at Medusa. Only his lips moved, and they seemed to be fighting paralysis. “She’s married to someone else.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about that,” she said. “The good-looking motel man who’ll jump for a quick romp with any woman holds still long enough. So, have you been boning her?”

“No,” Doc said, carefully and distinctly. “Because she’s married. To someone else.”

“Oh.” Buffy thought about it. “You mean she’s not interested.”

“I mean she wouldn’t be interested even if she were interested. And if she were …” Doc stopped, as if searching for a specialized vocabulary to use in explaining a complicated technical issue. “Judith would never violate her marital vows. It’s part of who she is, and why I value her as I do. If she were capable of such a thing, it would so diminish her in my eyes that I couldn’t desire her. If I were to ask such a thing, she couldn’t possibly continue to associate with me. Can you understand that?”

“Give me a minute,” Buffy said. She sat, eyes distant, lips moving, then looked to him again. “No, I don’t get it. You want her, but you wouldn’t want her if she wanted you … No, no — it’s okay for her to want you as long as she doesn’t do anything about it, and you can bet she knows you want her, but she’s fine with that as long as you don’t do anything about it … You’re both trying to do the right thing, and the right thing is what’s keeping you apart, and what about that isn’t just totally freaking insane?”

Doc shook his head. “I’ve told you as clearly as I know how. If you can’t understand it, you never will.”

“But I want to,” Buffy said. “You’re one of the good guys, I can see that, and your Judy must be one, too — unless she’s just a total tease — and I’m supposed to be a good guy, and I’m really trying but none of the rules make any sense —”

Mercifully, the doorbell rang. It was Andy. Doc ushered him inside … then, seeing him clearly in the interior light, said, “Good Lord. Are you all right? Do you have any odd symptoms — chills, muscle aches, gastric upset —”

Andy waved it off. “Don’t worry, Doc, it’s nothing special.” His eyes found Buffy, and the smile tightened. “Nothing at all special. I had a hard night, couldn’t sleep for worrying about Judith.”

“I don’t know, he might be coming down with something, he looked pretty limp and wrung-out the last time I saw him.” Buffy’s tone was bright with mirth and malice. “Don’t worry, widdle boy, we’ll get Mama back for you so she can make it all better again.”

“I’ll be okay,” Andy assured her. “Right now I feel like I spent all night rolling around on a sack full of rawhide chew toys, but a decent night on something soft will set me right.”

“Good luck with that,” Buffy said. “I’m thinking you don’t do too well when it comes to mattresses.”

“It’s a matter of proper support,” Andy told her. “You want something firm, but also yielding. Some models just aren’t soft enough for any reasonable —”

“Stop it,” Doc said. “Both of you, just shut up. Your childish innuendoes are as offensive as they are obvious.” He leaned closer to Andy and continued softly, “Once we get Judith back — if we do — you’re no longer welcome here. Here, or at the clinic. You make me sick.” Then he turned and went up the staircase to the second floor.

Buffy was still grinning at him, and Andy said, “When we find my wife, if you pull anything —”

“I’ll do whatever I feel like doing,” Buffy returned, and that feral stare fixed him though the smile never shifted. “Unless you want me to feel like some tell-all girl talk with wifey-poo, you don’t need to be pushing out your chest and trying to order me around.”

Danger prickled his scalp. Okay, he couldn’t dominate or intimidate her, and something told him attempts at sweet-talking would be equally fruitless just now. Forcing his tone to something calm and reasonable, he said, “You’re right, I know better than that. I’m just hoping I can rely on your generosity.” He allowed the tiniest possible smile to escape. “You really are very hard to resist … and quite a handful, when you put your mind to it.”

“And you really are nowhere near as good in bed as you used to think you were.” She was far from won over, but some of the hardness left her eyes. “Don’t feel too bad, Sexy-Boy, you’re not the first guy to buckle under Buffy Summers. Why else would so many of them take off running after just one night with the Slayer?”

Andy let the smile widen. “You definitely should come with a warning, ‘DO NOT ATTEMPT IF YOU HAVE A HEART CONDITION —’ ”

“It wasn’t your heart that gave out on me,” Buffy reminded him.

Katie came down the stairs, Doc a few steps behind her. “Hi, guys,” she called. “I had my alarm set, but it must be a few minutes off, I heard the doorbell while I was getting dressed. So, what’ve you got?”

“Hold on,” Buffy said. “First things first. Now that we’re all here, we can deal with the most important item on the agenda. Namely, me.” She looked around at them. “We know there’s at least two kinds of demons, plus whatever Evil Overlord is bossing them around, plus from what Doc says there’s a wandering vampire in town. Oh, and there’s a rescue involved, not just your basic demon-killing. Put all that together, I’d say my services are worth $500 a day.”

There was a silence. Then Andy said, “I’ve already spent more than $200 on tire repair, clothes, unicorns, and cheesecake. Not to mention room rates.”

“The room wasn’t being used,” Buffy said. “And it’s your wife we’re talking about. Come on, guys. Lawyers charge that much per hour … and there are lots of lawyers, but there’s only one Me.”

“I don’t believe this,” Katie said. “You’re haggling? This is about Judith.”

“I’m not saying she’s not worth it,” Andy insisted, “but I’m in a delicate cash position right now —”

“We accept,” Doc said to the Slayer. “You’ve got your $500 a day, on my word. Just help us find her.”

“Fine,” Buffy told him. “And I’ll only charge you $400 for last night; it’d be a freebie, we were still talking rates then, but I did save your daughter.” She looked around. “So, here we are. Ready to tackle the forces of darkness, just the four of us.”

Katie said, “Umm —” All eyes swung to her, and she gave them a self-conscious smile. “Umm, about that …”

“Katie?” Doc prompted. “What is it?”

“Well, I might have sort of actually definitely …” Katie ducked her head and mumbled, “… told Dustin.”

“Oh, my God,” Doc said.

“What?” Buffy said.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy said.

“I had to,” Katie protested. “He has swords. Buffy told me guns weren’t really the thing against demons, and she said the same to Andy. Dustin has a samurai sword set, katana and wakizashi, not just a display set but actual tempered blades, they cost him over $3,000. I had to tell him why, I couldn’t ask him for the swords without an explanation. And he can help, Dad, you know he can, he already has his black belt and he’s really good at his weapons forms and he’s my boyfriend.”

“God help us,” Andy said.

“Be quiet.” Doc looked to Katie. “How much did you tell him?”

“Uh, pretty much all of it.” She kept her head down, looking up through her eyelashes. “What kind of relationship is it if we don’t trust each other? I told him to give me time to let you all know he was coming … umm, he should be getting here any time now.”

“Settle back,” Andy said to Buffy. “You’re in for a real treat.”

“See?” Buffy said to Doc. “People just have to go blabbing about the Slayer.”

*                *               *

No explanation was given as to exactly what made ‘Dustin’ so objectionable; perhaps from consideration for Katie’s feeling, or maybe they assumed it would be obvious. Well, it was. When the boyfriend in question arrived a few minutes later, he hadn’t spoken a dozen words before the watching Slayer understood exactly why the two men reacted to him with such forceful disapproval; the only mystery was why Katie was blind to it.

He was Andy, in miniature. Ten years younger, two inches shorter, twenty-five pounds lighter, he projected the exact same smug God’s-gift-to-women cockiness that Andy Sexton always carried. Doc clearly loathed him for the similarity to a man he despised; Andy, it seemed obvious, couldn’t stand him because he was supposed to be the prime male in any gathering (and didn’t at all enjoy dealing with the same attitude he directed at everyone else); and Katie, openly lacking in respect for Andy, turned instantly giddy at Dustin’s appearance, utterly oblivious to the fundamental likeness between the two.

Dustin’s greeting to Doc was polite but perfunctory; his attitude to Katie was at once possessive and dismissive, and Andy he ignored entirely. He looked directly at Buffy, and — the Real Deal has arrived, and it’s up to you to convince him, assuming you can — said, “So this is what a Slayer is supposed to look like.”

She might have trouble understanding the nuances of the good guy role, but of high school head-games she was past master. “Got it on the first try, Sherlock.” She let scorn show through the smile. “Me, I already knew how to recognize a dork.”

It didn’t faze him, but she hadn’t expected it to; this was just the build-up. “If you’re really a Slayer,” he said, “you shouldn’t mind showing me what you’re made of.”

Without moving from the chair, Buffy answered, “If you’re really that stupid, you shouldn’t mind screaming and bleeding.”

Andy smiled. Katie looked distressed. Doc moved next to Buffy and murmured, “Try not to break him … much. He’s an ass, but now that he knows, he actually could be useful.”

“Party pooper,” she said back, just as low.

Dustin couldn’t have heard the exchange, but his eyes followed it. If he felt worry or uncertainty, it didn’t show. “Well?” he said. “I have to see something, I’m not going to take all this on faith.”

Katie’s voice was forlorn. “You said you believed me.”

Dustin gave her a gleaming smile that visibly interfered with the function of her knees. “Reagan said it best: ‘Trust, but verify.’ I’m watching out for both of us here, babe.” He looked back to Buffy. “Still waiting.”

She got up from the chair, taking her time, and observed at large, “I want everybody here to remember I didn’t start this.”

Then she hit him; she had crossed the room and punched him in the chest before any of the others could do more than blink. Dustin really was quick, and he really was skilled, he intercepted the punch with an outward block, flawlessly timed and classically delivered. It might as well have been directed at a steel piston. His arm went numb, and the punch flung him back against the wall.

He didn’t fall, but it was some seconds before he could get his eyes to focus, more until he could make air move through his lungs again. It was obvious that she could have put the fist completely through him if she had wanted, but pride forced out the words: “I wasn’t ready.”

She snorted. “Like that’s my fault? You’ll never be ready, dimbulb. Not for a Slayer.”

He went for her, launching three strikes with all the quickness he possessed, jab-hook-chop, and she wasn’t there for any of them. Then she stopped dodging; he felt a flare of triumph as the first punch landed, instantly supplanted by fury and despair as she took it and the next three, head barely moving even though he put all his strength into the blows. He planted the last one squarely onto that mocking smile, weight sunk into his hips, shoulders perfectly aligned, directing every last ounce of force into the two forward knuckles, one of the best punches of his life … and at last got a reaction, she caught his wrist as he was pulling the arm back, the other wrist as he tried a shuto to the throat. “Do not smear the lipstick,” she reproved, holding him without effort as he heaved and strained; then she straightened her arms abruptly, sending him crashing back into the wall with even greater impact, and this time he did go down.

“See?” she announced to the rest of the room. “I was nice. I can do that, when I want to.” Then she went to where Dustin lay gasping on the carpet, and squatted next to him. “You got off easy, numb-nuts,” she said, casual and unruffled. “I’ve only run across a couple of humans who were better than you at the fisty stuff, but — breaking news here, jackass — I’m superhuman. I grew up on a Hellmouth, I’ve taken punches from sluggo demons and master vampires and even a Sl–… another Slayer, people who make you look like D.J. Qualls with a hernia.” She stood, dusting off her hands. “Rock breaks scissors, and then pounds the pieces into paper-clips, and then pounds the paper-clips into … little twisty messed-up paper-clips.”

She looked around. “I’m thirsty all of a sudden,” she said. “I know what I want — and I know I can’t have it, I’m no dummy — but I could really go for some wine coolers. Then, once Dustin here can sit up and uncross his eyes, we can start making some plans. Okay?”
 

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