Faith, Pike, and Sister Sunshine (Portal, Part 6, 1/4)
Title: Faith, Pike, and Sister Sunshine (Portal, Part 6, 1/4)
Author: kanedax
Fandom: BtVS Wishverse
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Major Characters: The Mayor, Pike/Drusilla, Buffy, Faith, Merrick, Giles, Post
Rating: R for language and violence
Summary: The Master is gone, and far too many try to fill the void
Notes: I don’t own these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Christopher Golden, Dark Horse Comics, and 20th Century Fox.
Never Again / Previous Chapters / Faith, Pike and Sister Sunshine (2/4)
February 9, 1999
Mayor Richard Wilkins III, formerly Mayor Richard Wilkins II, formerly Mayor Richard Wilkins, stretched his arms to the moon and inhaled deeply.
“Ahhh,” he sighed. “I love that smell. Don’t you, Allan?”
“Um, yes, sir.”
Richard turned to his deputy, giving him that warm smile that made him so famous for so many generations. “Now, Allan,” he said with his usual mock scold, “No one likes a fibber. Don’t you smell it?”
Allan Finch, Deputy Mayor since Richard’s last victorious campaign, decided that lying to his boss’s face was never in his best interest. Allowing him to talk on, however, was.
“I… I don’t smell anything, sir,” he said, absently twisting the top of his ballpoint pen and trying to hide the fear that had grown more and more in the last few months as he began to learn of the Mayor’s true nature. “What am I supposed to be smelling?”
“It’s the smell of victory, my boy!” said the Mayor, slapping Allan jovially on the back. “The smell of clean. The smell of simplicity. The smell that can only come when an opponent has turned tail and turned to dust. You know what I mean, don’t you, Allan?”
“I… I think so, sir…”
“I always knew that Master fellow was going to be a poppy seed in my wisdom tooth from the moment he showed up in my fair town,” said Richard. “Even after I made the blood oath with the local demons, I still felt it when he arrived. He always gave me the willies. All that blood on his chin. So unsanitary. He was alive for over six hundred years, and he never learned how to use a napkin? Doesn’t sound like much of a Master if you ask me.”
Richard broke out into one of his trademark guffaws, patting Allan on the shoulder. Allan knew of the true evil that lay beneath that chuckle, the one that exuded both cunning and naiveté. False naivete. The Mayor was one of the smartest men he had ever met. That was why he joined up with his re-election campaign in the first place, long before knowing that the man he was helping win was the same man who had been winning the same campaign for the last century.
“But that’s in the past now,” said the Mayor with a satisfied grin. “He’s gone. All of the vampires are gone. Well, at least the ones not working for me, am I right?”
The Mayor was cunning. Allan knew that even before getting mixed up in this whole Ascension business. He had been alive for one hundred years, immortal but not invincible. You couldn’t live one hundred years, convincing the townfolk that you were yourself, your father, and your grandfather, without having a good amount of brains, talent, and a good amount of luck.
Allan could have turned to someone else. Should have turned to someone else. The infamous White Hats, maybe, that group of humans that had been fighting The Master for the past three years. They could have done something. Or maybe he could have tried to find out some more information on the rumors of a government military operation that had been sprouting up since The Master’s rise to power.
Hell, maybe Allan could have gone to The Master himself. Like Wilkins said, The Master’s rise was an unexpected obstacle for the Mayor throughout his last term. If anyone could have broken the contract that the Sunnydale Hellmouth demons had signed with Wilkins, it would have been The Master, an outsider to these parts when it was signed.
But it was too late now. A half hour more, and…
“How much time do we have, Allan?” Wilkins asked, as though reading his mind. Allan truly hoped, had always hoped, that mind-reading wasn’t one of the Mayor’s many talents.
“A… A half hour, sir,” Finch stumbled.
“Excellent,” said Wilkins. “A half hour till the Dedication. A half hour until the one hundred day mark. Oh, I tell you, Allan, I am as giddy as a schoolgirl on Christmas morning!”
And he looked it, too. Wilkins was bouncing up and down the balls of his feet, his face filled with such joy that Allan could have almost believed that the Mayor of Sunnydale was a poster child for everything good and right with the world.
Of course, he knew better…
Wilkins turned around, taking one more deep breath through his nose, patting his belly gently, before turning back to his deputy. “Well, then,” he said. “Shall we go inside? We have a little business to attend to before the Dedication.”
“Yes, sir,” said Allan, defeated. The Mayor strode confidently past him, and Allan Finch followed at his heels.
“Now, then,” said Wilkins as they walked. “What’s on my docket for tomorrow?”
“Um, let’s see,” Allan stammered, flipping through the schedule book that he carried with him at all times. “You have a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce at nine. Principal Snyder at four…”
“How about my meeting with the Boy Scout troop?”
“That’s not till Thursday, sir.”
“Oh, gosh, that’s right,” said Wilkins, snapping his fingers. “And any progress on the Box of Gavrok?”
“Right on schedule, sir,” said Allan. “It should be arriving in a few weeks, with time to spare before the… um…”
“The feeding, yes. Perfect. This is gonna work out great, Allan, I can just feel it!”
“Yes, sir…” Allan said as they approached the door to the Mayor’s office.
“I should probably start my graduation speech, as well,” said Wilkins, walking in. “I’ve been having these wonderful brainstorms the past few days, but unfortunately I’ve been so focused on the Dedication that I haven’t been able to write them down. Make a memo for me to get right on that tomorrow morning, would you, Allan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okie dokie,” said the Mayor. “Is the symbol ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the candles?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And how do I look?”
Allan blinked. “Sir?”
“How do I look?” Wilkins repeated, turning in place. “For gosh sake, Allan, I’m going to be dedicating my service to the unholy lords of the nether regions, I don’t want to come off as a slob.”
“Oh,” said Allan. “Well, you look great, sir.”
“Really?” Wilkins said, his mouth twitching in concern. “You like the tie? Don’t think it’s too much?”
“It’s, um, it’s fine, sir.”
“Although your tag’s sticking up.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Wilkins, sighing in relief as he twisted his hands behind his neck. “I always forget to… wait…”
Allan and Wilkins both turned towards the office door, where they found two people, a man and a woman, standing in the doorway. The man, with a black leather jacket and messy hair and goatee both dyed a bluish gray, was leaning against the doorframe, while the woman, wide-eyed, skinny, in a simple red dress, was standing in the middle of the doorway, her hands folded across her small bosom. She seemed to be studying the two men like fish in an aquarium.
“There,” said the man, practically still a boy, said, grinning at the Mayor. “Now you look spiffy.”
“Excuse me,” said the Mayor. “I don’t know where your manners are, young man, but it’s practically midnight. The office is closed right now, but if you’d like to come back and make an appointment in the morning…”
“Nah, I think we’re good,” said the boy, standing straight. “An appointment now would be much more accommodating for our busy schedule, don’t you think, Dru?”
“That’s right,” said the girl, dreamily, her voice carrying a thick Cockney accent. “We’d like to speak to Little Dickie Thricewise, please.”
“I appreciate that,” said the Mayor, walking to his desk. “It’s always great to see young people embracing their civic duty of corresponding with their local leaders. However, now is very much not the time. James?” he continued, pressing a button on the intercom. “Could you come in here and escort these two fine young citizens out of my office?”
There was no response besides the static hiss and the maniacal giggle from Dru’s throat.
“Oh, James?” said the man with dawning comprehension. “Nice guy out front with all of his nice cronies? The ones who are piles of dust in the wind? Sweet fellas, them. Traitors to the race, but sweet.”
“Little Dickie Thricewise, all alone,” Dru chanted.
“Well,” said the man, glancing at Allan. “I’m not so sure that’s true quite yet, baby.”
With a speed that shocked Allan into paralysis, the man bolted forward, until his face was just inches from the deputy’s. And when they were practically nose-to-nose, the man’s face shifted, and Allan realized that he was finally going to die.
“What do you think, Dru,” the man hissed through fanged teeth. “Are you hungry, or am I?”
“I’d like a snack, Pike,” said Dru with a smile.
“Fair enough,” said Pike, grabbing Allan’s arm and tossing him to the girl, who caught him without falling over, her grip revealing a terrible strength hidden within her waifish body.
“I’ll save some for you, love,” she hissed, her vampiric face shining through as she bit into his neck. He felt his blood drain from his body. His vision blurred, and then faded.
And Allan Finch heard his final words before dying.
---------
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” said Wilkins with distaste. “You’re going to get blood all over my nice clean carpet.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Dick,” said Pike, hoisting himself up onto the Mayor’s desk. “My Drusilla, she’s been trapped underground for the past year and a half. She’s not gonna let a drop go to waste. She’s hungry.”
Drusilla looked up from her meal, her yellow eyes piercing Richard’s mind. “Would you like a taste, Little Dickie Thricewise?”
“Oh, now that’s just icky,” said the Mayor, watching Allan Finch’s blood roll down Drusilla’s chin. “I have a box of wetnaps, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d…”
Drusilla’s grin widened, and her long tongue slithered out, catching most of the drip. “I don’t want any to get away,” she said.
“Well, that’s super,” said the Mayor with a roll of his eyes. “And could you stop calling me a thricewise? Disgusting creatures. All their power’s in… in… in fornication. And that’s just immoral.”
“Dru calls them as she sees them,” Pike shrugged.
“Now I tell you this, young man,” said Wilkins with a shake of his finger. “I married my Edna May in ought three, and she remained the little Cupie Doll she was until the day she died. You never saw her growing five stories. Not that I’m one to talk about my bedroom antics around strangers. Now get out!”
“Okay,” said Pike, standing up. “If you don’t wanna hear about the Slayer, we can leave right now. Let’s go, Dru.”
“The Slayer?” Wilkins said, rounding on Pike. “The Slayer’s here? In my town?”
“Well, yeah,” said Pike condescendingly. “What did you think? The Master accidentally tripped and fell down on a picket fence, or something?”
The Mayor stepped back, considering. Actually, he never really did think about who had killed The Master. He had assumed that it was probably one of those White Hats finally getting in a lucky shot, or one of those soldiers that still seemed to pop up around town. Heck, it could have even been one of The Master’s own people. That Harris fellow seemed the type.
In the end, all that had really mattered to Richard was that The Master was dead. But it all made perfect sense now…
“The Slayer,” Wilkins repeated. “The Slayer’s in my town. Well, no matter. In just a few minutes she won’t mean a lick to me. She won’t be able to touch me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some important business to attend to. And then the three of us can sit down and you can tell me all about the Slayer. Sound good?”
“Actually, no,” said Pike. “In fact, I don’t like your attitude around me, Mr. Dickie Thricewise. I don’t think we’re going to tell you one little iota about Buffy. I think Drusilla and I are going to get on our way, aren’t we, Dru?”
“I suppose so,” said Dru, dropping the drained corpse of Allan Finch to the ground. “And I was having so much fun playing with the earth and the fire.”
“Buffy,” said the Mayor. “Her name is Buffy. That’s… That’s quite an interesting… Wait… What did you…?”
Wilkins spun around in horror and sprinted towards the other door in his office. Slamming it open, he looked around the large, mostly empty room where his ritual had been carefully prepared.
Now…
“You… You….” Wilkins panted, head spinning at the sight of the intricately measured pentagram, now nothing more than a jumbled mess of white sand. Five candles, each once standing at the tips of the star, were now strewn across the room, one or two still flickering weakly within the center of their smashed votives.
“Fire and earth.” Wilkins jumped when he heard the voice inches from his ear, felt Drusilla’s fingertips on the back of his neck. “So pretty. So fun.”
“Aww,” said Pike from Wilkins’s other side. “Did we do that? Oopsie.”
“You…” the Mayor snarled. “You hateful little children! Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“We gone done made a mess of your purdy picture!” Pike cried, melodramatically slapping his hands to his cheeks.
“You’ve ruined the Dedication!” Wilkins yelled, walking helplessly around the room. “Decades of careful work, destroyed by you inconsiderate, hateful…”
“You already used the word ‘hateful’,” said Pike. “Listen, Dickie. You’re through. Dru and I, we’re taking charge of this little ‘burb.”
“Don’t speak of my town that way,” said Wilkins quietly. “There’s still time. I can still…”
“No, you can’t,” said Pike, grabbing Wilkins by the collar and dragging him away from the pile of sand. “And I can speak of your little puissant town any way I want. I’m from LA. Any town smaller than New York is a suburb to us. Now, let’s get down to business.”
“What business do I have with you?” screamed the Mayor, whose rational, calculating mind was already weighing his options. The Dedication isn’t important, he thought. It would only grant me invincibility. I can still Ascend. All I need to do is survive one hundred more days without being killed. It’ll be a lot more painful, and I won’t be able to ingest the contents of the Box, but some level of Ascension is still possible.
All I have to do is survive one hundred more days…
“Little Dickie’s thinking he still has power,” said Drusilla, walking around Wilkins to look into his eyes. “Little Dickie’s thinking he’s still going to see the light.”
“Little Dickie still thinks he’s gonna be the big cheese?” said Pike, dragging Wilkins by the arm and tossing him into the chair that sat across from the Mayor’s desk. “Little Dickie better tell us about the Glove of Mynhegon if he wants to survive the night.”
“Why should I tell you anything?” the Mayor bristled. “After everything you’ve done…”
“Well, see, the answer’s simple, Mr. Mayor,” said Pike, slowly walking around the chair. “See, Dru here is awful powerful. She happened to be sitting in The Master’s chamber when he got himself staked by Summers. So she’s got everything he had, plus she has The Sight.”
“Daddy loved my Sight,” said Drusilla. “That’s why he and Grandmother picked me. Snake in the woodshed.”
“Dru’s been around for a while,” Pike continued. “But me, I’m still new to this. I don’t have what she has. But I want to be everything I can be for her. And that means the Glove."
“You have The Sight?” said the Mayor. “Then why don’t you just See where your Glove is? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” said Pike. “Her Sight told us that you know. After all, you’ve been around this town for a hundred years. Founded it. You know about every graveyard, every tomb and mausoleum that’s been opened in Sunnydale. I bet you know exactly where it is.”
The Glove, Wilkins thought. Of course. I never used it because I knew I could never remove it. Hard to keep undercover with a big gauntlet strapped to your arm for one hundred years. But now that the Dedication’s been ruined, it’s a valid second option.
“Thricewise is thinking double-cross,” said Drusilla, perching herself on the desk.
“Double-cross, shmouble-cross,” said Wilkins. “I can tell you where the Glove is. And if you bring it back here to me, I can promise you two to be my most trusted advisors for the next one hundred days. The three of us can keep me alive until I Ascend, and then I can make you my deputies. My dukes. My prince and princess. I can give you whatever you want. I can give you power that will make the Gem of Amara look like a Cracker Jack toy. And not one of the really nice toys that they used to give out when I was pretending to be my father. I’m talking about the modern boxes that give stickers and really unsanitary rub-on tattoos.”
“Or we could just kill you,” said Pike.
“Or you could just kill me,” said Wilkins patronizingly. “Except you can’t. I signed a blood treaty with your kind when I first arrived here. I’d give the Hellmouth a town to feed on if you didn’t touch me for one hundred years. Which means no demon can kill me. None. Sorry to disappoint.”
“No killing?” asked Pike. “Well, that sucks. Hey, Dru, what do you think would happen if we cut his arms off?”
“That wouldn’t kill him,” said Drusilla.
“Excellent,” Pike replied, opening desk drawers. “Is there a letter opener around here somewhere?”
“No!” Wilkins cried. “No! Look, it doesn’t have to be this way. We can help each other.”
“You can help by telling us where the Glove is,” said Pike. “If you do, we just might save your eyeballs.”
The Mayor closed his eyes. And told them.
Pike and Drusilla saved his eyeballs.
---------
“An exchange of information?”
“I believe that would be most prudent,” said Gwendolyn Post, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I can assist in helping you find more on this new vampire threat, and you two and your Slayer can assist me and my charge in finding our target.”
“Well, I don’t see what your problem is,” said Merrick Jamison-Smythe. “I mean, it’s just a Lagos demon. You’ve tracked it across the country, I don’t see how finding it in Sunnydale’s going to be very difficult.”
“It’s not the finding it that will be the most difficult,” said Gwendolyn. “Nor will killing it. I’ve trained my charge well. Even though she’s a Potential, she still can fight as well as anyone. Isn’t that right, Faith?”
“Yeah, whatever,” said the raven-haired teenager, laying back against the library staircase, absently picking her fingernails with her teeth and wiping them on her tight white tank-top.
“I apologize for her behavior,” Gwendolyn said quietly, leaning in to the other Watchers. “I’m still trying to reign her in. She’s doing much better, but her previous Watcher hadn’t gotten very far with her before being killed.”
“Yes, I understand,” said Rupert Giles.
“Do you?” said Gwendolyn. “Have you had a Potential under your watch yet, Mr. Giles?”
“Well, not yet,” said Giles, uncomfortably wiping his glasses. “However, I have been working as a school librarian for almost three years now. I know exactly what teenage rebellion looks like, believe me.”
“Of course,” Gwendolyn said stiffly, looking down her nose at Rupert before returning her attention to Merrick. “Anyway, Mr. Smythe, the issue at hand is not the tracking of the Lagos, nor the fight. The issue is dealing with what he’s searching for.”
“And what’s that?” asked Merrick.
“What kind of a name is Jamison-Smythe, anyway?” asked Faith. “Sounds all British, but you sound American.”
“My parents were both Watchers from England,” Merrick answered. “Transferred to Ohio to train a Potential Slayer, and I was born there. We stayed after Lucy was past age, and I was raised American.”
“Killer,” said Faith, sounding bored already.
“Now if you will please stop interrupting us, Miss Lahane,” Merrick said shortly.
“Please, Mr. Smythe,” said Gwendolyn. “If you would let me handle my own charge...”
“Of course,” said Merrick. “I apologize.”
“No need,” Gwendolyn said with a wave of her hand. “Now if you will please stop interrupting us, Miss Lahane.”
“Your originality is epic, Post,” said Faith.
“The issue,” Gwendolyn forged on, “is the Glove of Mynhegon. It’s hidden somewhere in Sunnydale, the Lagos wants it, and we don’t want him to have it.”
"The Glove of Mynhegon," Giles muttered. "It sounds vaguely familiar. Merrick?"
"Mystical gauntlet?" Merrick asked, looking to Post for confirmation. "Grants the wearer extreme and unknown power?"
"One and the same," Gwendolyn replied with a nod. "Our sources state that it's hidden in one of Sunnydale's crypts. I suggest that we get a map of--"
She cut herself off quickly as the library door swung open and two teenage boys entered through the mass of students roving the halls on their way home for the day.
"Anyone get the news to you yet, Giles?" asked the larger of the two boys. Gwendolyn looked anxiously down at the table, which currently held three open mystical books, which she quickly closed, giving the boys a reassuring smile that didn't reach her eyes. Faith, on the other hand, seemed to perk up at the appearance of the two boys, breaking into a sultry grin.
"It's alright, Gwendolyn," said Giles gently. "They're with us. Miss Post, Miss Lahane, I would like to introduce you to Daniel Osbourne and Lawrence Blaisdell."
“Sup?” said Faith, eyeing Larry, who returned her look with a slightly uncomfortable glance.
"The fewer people associated with the work of the Slayer, the better," Post said to Giles. "You should know that."
"Well, we never had a Slayer before a few weeks ago, so we made due. What news was I supposed to be getting?"
“Another attack,” said Larry, tossing his book bag on the table and sitting down. “Surveillance picked up one man and one woman. At the Mayor’s office.”
“Good Lord,” said Giles. “The Mayor’s dead?”
“No, he’s not,” said Oz, falling down into the chair beside Larry. “But I think he wishes otherwise.”
“Arms and legs cut off,” Larry elaborated. “Ears, tongue, scalp. Slashes all across his chest and back. They left his eyes intact, but that’s about it. Poor bastard. The doctors are saying it’s a miracle he’s still alive. Almost like something’s keeping him from dying.”
“Unbelievable,” Merrick muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Faith lay back again, her face paling.
“If I may be so bold,” said Gwendolyn suspiciously, “how is it that you’ve come across all of this information?”
“The police have been trying to keep it under wraps,” said Larry. “Wilkins has a private ward of the hospital, no admittance.”
“So obviously everyone knows,” Oz finished. “Probably one of the students has a mom or dad working at the hospital or through the force. Also, the deputy mayor had bite marks, and was drained. So everyone’s talking vampire, too.”
“Everyone?” said Gwendolyn. “Surely the knowledge of vampires isn’t that prevalent in this town.”
“We lived under a ruthless vampiric regime for the last two and a half years, Miss Post,” said Giles. “They were quite difficult to ignore.”
“A man and a woman,” said Merrick, “Displaying an extreme knack for torture, probably enjoying every second of it. Plus they left behind their candy bar wrapper after they had their snack. Just like every other victim. Sounds like our M.O.”
“I concur,” said Giles, standing up and pacing the room. “Regular vampires don’t leave this kind of carnage behind. And now they’re taking it a step further, attacking the Mayor alive, almost as a symbol.”
“Okay, I’ve seen Seven,” said Faith, looking slightly green. “And I’ll tell ya, I have no clue what sin this one would cover.”
“They’re marking their territory,” said Merrick. “Maybe making a power play. Trying to establish themselves as the new big dogs of Sunnydale.”
“Then why wouldn’t they leave some clue as to who they are?” asked Larry.
“Maybe they don’t need to,” said Oz. “Maybe they’re already well-known around the vamp circles. Someone from The Master’s cronies?”
“It’s possible,” said Giles. “You two said you staked Willow, correct? You’re sure?”
“Yeah, and Buffy dusted Xander,” said Oz.
“So that’s one co-ed tag team out of the picture,” said Larry. “Maybe Darla and Luke? We haven’t heard from them in a while, and they weren’t in the warehouse.”
“Darla and Luke had been out of The Master’s circle for some time,” said Giles. “For being such major cogs early on, they were replaced rather quickly by Willow and Xander as The Master’s trusted advisors. And knowing The Master, knowing who Willow and Xander became after they were turned, I doubt either of them survived the demotion.”
“So that’s four piles of dust we can eliminate from the list,” Larry sighed. “Which leaves the names of about one hundred vamps who happen to be boinking.”
“Do you think we should investigate?” asked Oz. “Get a look around the Mayor’s office, see if there’s any clues?”
“Hey, maybe we can get a hold of the surveillance video! That might give us some faces!”
“I highly doubt it,” said Giles, sitting down again in frustration. “If there’s one thing I learned about the Sunnydale Police Department in my time here, it’s that they’ve never been very forthcoming with help or information. There’s a reason we were on our own so much, and that’s because the Mayor didn’t raise a finger, and the police fought a futile battle of suppression. They’ve hidden information in the past, and they haven’t done much more in the time since The Master’s death.”
Almost like something’s keeping him from dying…
Giles shook his head. More pressing concerns now. “So we don’t have any more information about the two vampires, except that they’re extremely dangerous, and they’re getting more bold as time passes.”
“They’re becoming a greater threat every day,” said Merrick. “Which is where my Buffy comes in. She’ll patrol the streets tonight while we assist Miss Post with locating the Glove.”
“What Glove?” asked Larry.
“The Glove of Mynhegon,” said Giles. “Beyond that, we don’t know much. Hence the research. Larry, find the graveyard maps, would you?”
“Perhaps Faith could accompany the Slayer?” said Gwendolyn as Larry nodded and stood up. “Get some first-hand experience with her?”
“I don’t believe that would be a good idea, Gwendolyn,” said Merrick.
“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea,” said Faith. “Besides, I wanna stay here with the big chunk of man meat.”
“I’m gay,” Larry said, never turning around as he searched through the stacks.
“Really?”
“Really,” said Oz and Giles together.
“Damn, it’s always the hot ones,” said Faith, standing up and stretching. “On second thought, Miss Post, I think I will take you up on that offer. My experience with books pretty much begins and ends with cats and hats.”
“I doubt Buffy would appreciate the company,” said Merrick shortly. “She works alone.”
“So I can tell by her crack research team,” said Gwendolyn. “Merrick, Faith is a Potential. She could quite possibly be the next Slayer. I wish to expose her to as much experience as possible. Don’t you think Miss Summers would be even better off had she spent time with India Cohen before she was Chosen?”
Merrick glared at Gwendolyn, his mustache bristling as he exhaled through his nose. “Very well,” he grunted. “I’ll allow it tonight. However, if Faith returns to you with a broken nose, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Sounds like a sweetheart,” said Faith.
“I’ll call her to let her know you’re arriving,” said Merrick, picking up the phone.
“Right on,” said Faith, starting towards the door and then turning around. “Where’s she at, anyway?”
“Sunny Hills Motel,” said Merrick, dialing the phone. “About a half-mile south of here on the edge of town. Room 238. Do you need directions?”
“Nah, I can swing it,” said Faith. “Post, should I check for vacancies?”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Faith,” said Gwendolyn. “I expect our search will be completed soon enough. And what’s this about Buffy staying in a motel?”
“We’re only here temporarily, too, Gwendolyn,” said Merrick as Faith left the library. “It’s still too close to Los Angeles for our comfort level. What’s the problem?”
“Do you think it’s wise to have the destroyer of this town’s primary evil sleeping in public accommodations?” said Gwendolyn. “It would be like shooting fish in a barrel for any vampire harboring a vengeance.”
“Very few of them know that she’s here,” said Giles. “The attack on the warehouse left very few survivors, and those that were left didn’t even know that she was the Slayer.”
“And she is the Slayer, after all,” said Merrick. “She can take care of herself, especially in the daylight. After all, you’re putting the life of your charge in her hands. You have to trust her too, right? Hello, Buffy,” he continued, putting the receiver to his mouth.
“Yes, I suppose,” said Gwendolyn, nervously looking at the door where Faith left moments before. “Anyway, we should probably continue to research the Glove. It would be in our best interest to find it and destroy it tonight.”
“Yes, of course,” said Giles. “It would be in everyone’s best interest. Merrick, make sure to tell her to keep an eye out for a Lagos demon tonight as well as any vampires.”
“She sees a demon, she kills it,” said Merrick. “That’s the way it’s always been.”
“So, okay,” said Larry as Merrick returned to his phone conversation, “Glove of Whatever. Big powerful. How do we destroy it?”
“That’s still something we’re hoping to discover,” said Gwendolyn.
“You two look for any references on the Internet about the Glove,” said Giles to Oz and Larry. “Gwendolyn and I will do our best to narrow down its location.”
“We’re on it,” said Oz, pushing back his chair and heading to the computer in the back of the library.
“As for its destruction,” Giles said to Post, “have you contacted the Council? They may be able to give us some assistance with the research.”
Gwendolyn cleared her throat nervously. “Actually,” she said quietly, “it would be greatly appreciated if both you and Merrick would keep our little journey out of the ears of the Watchers’ Council.”
“Why is that?” asked Giles. “I’m sure they would be more than willing-“
“They’ve frowned upon my methods, to be honest,” said Post. “They believe that a Potential should be trained, but their experience with actual danger should be limited until they are Chosen. They certainly disapprove of us traveling across the continent searching out a demon. I, on the other hand, think it’s wonderful experience for Faith for her future, no matter if it’s as Slayer or as a grown woman. It’s hands-on training, if you will. And I know my Faith can handle herself better than the Council believes.”
“Sounds fine to me, Miss Post,” said Merrick, hanging up the phone. “I think I speak for both of us when I say that we’ve had our disagreements with the Council in the past. I personally have had more than one occasion where my methods have been questioned, and I won’t say anything if you won’t. Rupert?”
“Yes, of course,” said Giles, returning to the maps. “Your secret is safe with us, Gwendolyn.”
Never Again / Previous Chapters / Faith, Pike and Sister Sunshine (2/4)
Author: kanedax
Fandom: BtVS Wishverse
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Major Characters: The Mayor, Pike/Drusilla, Buffy, Faith, Merrick, Giles, Post
Rating: R for language and violence
Summary: The Master is gone, and far too many try to fill the void
Notes: I don’t own these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Christopher Golden, Dark Horse Comics, and 20th Century Fox.
Never Again / Previous Chapters / Faith, Pike and Sister Sunshine (2/4)
February 9, 1999
Mayor Richard Wilkins III, formerly Mayor Richard Wilkins II, formerly Mayor Richard Wilkins, stretched his arms to the moon and inhaled deeply.
“Ahhh,” he sighed. “I love that smell. Don’t you, Allan?”
“Um, yes, sir.”
Richard turned to his deputy, giving him that warm smile that made him so famous for so many generations. “Now, Allan,” he said with his usual mock scold, “No one likes a fibber. Don’t you smell it?”
Allan Finch, Deputy Mayor since Richard’s last victorious campaign, decided that lying to his boss’s face was never in his best interest. Allowing him to talk on, however, was.
“I… I don’t smell anything, sir,” he said, absently twisting the top of his ballpoint pen and trying to hide the fear that had grown more and more in the last few months as he began to learn of the Mayor’s true nature. “What am I supposed to be smelling?”
“It’s the smell of victory, my boy!” said the Mayor, slapping Allan jovially on the back. “The smell of clean. The smell of simplicity. The smell that can only come when an opponent has turned tail and turned to dust. You know what I mean, don’t you, Allan?”
“I… I think so, sir…”
“I always knew that Master fellow was going to be a poppy seed in my wisdom tooth from the moment he showed up in my fair town,” said Richard. “Even after I made the blood oath with the local demons, I still felt it when he arrived. He always gave me the willies. All that blood on his chin. So unsanitary. He was alive for over six hundred years, and he never learned how to use a napkin? Doesn’t sound like much of a Master if you ask me.”
Richard broke out into one of his trademark guffaws, patting Allan on the shoulder. Allan knew of the true evil that lay beneath that chuckle, the one that exuded both cunning and naiveté. False naivete. The Mayor was one of the smartest men he had ever met. That was why he joined up with his re-election campaign in the first place, long before knowing that the man he was helping win was the same man who had been winning the same campaign for the last century.
“But that’s in the past now,” said the Mayor with a satisfied grin. “He’s gone. All of the vampires are gone. Well, at least the ones not working for me, am I right?”
The Mayor was cunning. Allan knew that even before getting mixed up in this whole Ascension business. He had been alive for one hundred years, immortal but not invincible. You couldn’t live one hundred years, convincing the townfolk that you were yourself, your father, and your grandfather, without having a good amount of brains, talent, and a good amount of luck.
Allan could have turned to someone else. Should have turned to someone else. The infamous White Hats, maybe, that group of humans that had been fighting The Master for the past three years. They could have done something. Or maybe he could have tried to find out some more information on the rumors of a government military operation that had been sprouting up since The Master’s rise to power.
Hell, maybe Allan could have gone to The Master himself. Like Wilkins said, The Master’s rise was an unexpected obstacle for the Mayor throughout his last term. If anyone could have broken the contract that the Sunnydale Hellmouth demons had signed with Wilkins, it would have been The Master, an outsider to these parts when it was signed.
But it was too late now. A half hour more, and…
“How much time do we have, Allan?” Wilkins asked, as though reading his mind. Allan truly hoped, had always hoped, that mind-reading wasn’t one of the Mayor’s many talents.
“A… A half hour, sir,” Finch stumbled.
“Excellent,” said Wilkins. “A half hour till the Dedication. A half hour until the one hundred day mark. Oh, I tell you, Allan, I am as giddy as a schoolgirl on Christmas morning!”
And he looked it, too. Wilkins was bouncing up and down the balls of his feet, his face filled with such joy that Allan could have almost believed that the Mayor of Sunnydale was a poster child for everything good and right with the world.
Of course, he knew better…
Wilkins turned around, taking one more deep breath through his nose, patting his belly gently, before turning back to his deputy. “Well, then,” he said. “Shall we go inside? We have a little business to attend to before the Dedication.”
“Yes, sir,” said Allan, defeated. The Mayor strode confidently past him, and Allan Finch followed at his heels.
“Now, then,” said Wilkins as they walked. “What’s on my docket for tomorrow?”
“Um, let’s see,” Allan stammered, flipping through the schedule book that he carried with him at all times. “You have a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce at nine. Principal Snyder at four…”
“How about my meeting with the Boy Scout troop?”
“That’s not till Thursday, sir.”
“Oh, gosh, that’s right,” said Wilkins, snapping his fingers. “And any progress on the Box of Gavrok?”
“Right on schedule, sir,” said Allan. “It should be arriving in a few weeks, with time to spare before the… um…”
“The feeding, yes. Perfect. This is gonna work out great, Allan, I can just feel it!”
“Yes, sir…” Allan said as they approached the door to the Mayor’s office.
“I should probably start my graduation speech, as well,” said Wilkins, walking in. “I’ve been having these wonderful brainstorms the past few days, but unfortunately I’ve been so focused on the Dedication that I haven’t been able to write them down. Make a memo for me to get right on that tomorrow morning, would you, Allan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okie dokie,” said the Mayor. “Is the symbol ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the candles?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And how do I look?”
Allan blinked. “Sir?”
“How do I look?” Wilkins repeated, turning in place. “For gosh sake, Allan, I’m going to be dedicating my service to the unholy lords of the nether regions, I don’t want to come off as a slob.”
“Oh,” said Allan. “Well, you look great, sir.”
“Really?” Wilkins said, his mouth twitching in concern. “You like the tie? Don’t think it’s too much?”
“It’s, um, it’s fine, sir.”
“Although your tag’s sticking up.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Wilkins, sighing in relief as he twisted his hands behind his neck. “I always forget to… wait…”
Allan and Wilkins both turned towards the office door, where they found two people, a man and a woman, standing in the doorway. The man, with a black leather jacket and messy hair and goatee both dyed a bluish gray, was leaning against the doorframe, while the woman, wide-eyed, skinny, in a simple red dress, was standing in the middle of the doorway, her hands folded across her small bosom. She seemed to be studying the two men like fish in an aquarium.
“There,” said the man, practically still a boy, said, grinning at the Mayor. “Now you look spiffy.”
“Excuse me,” said the Mayor. “I don’t know where your manners are, young man, but it’s practically midnight. The office is closed right now, but if you’d like to come back and make an appointment in the morning…”
“Nah, I think we’re good,” said the boy, standing straight. “An appointment now would be much more accommodating for our busy schedule, don’t you think, Dru?”
“That’s right,” said the girl, dreamily, her voice carrying a thick Cockney accent. “We’d like to speak to Little Dickie Thricewise, please.”
“I appreciate that,” said the Mayor, walking to his desk. “It’s always great to see young people embracing their civic duty of corresponding with their local leaders. However, now is very much not the time. James?” he continued, pressing a button on the intercom. “Could you come in here and escort these two fine young citizens out of my office?”
There was no response besides the static hiss and the maniacal giggle from Dru’s throat.
“Oh, James?” said the man with dawning comprehension. “Nice guy out front with all of his nice cronies? The ones who are piles of dust in the wind? Sweet fellas, them. Traitors to the race, but sweet.”
“Little Dickie Thricewise, all alone,” Dru chanted.
“Well,” said the man, glancing at Allan. “I’m not so sure that’s true quite yet, baby.”
With a speed that shocked Allan into paralysis, the man bolted forward, until his face was just inches from the deputy’s. And when they were practically nose-to-nose, the man’s face shifted, and Allan realized that he was finally going to die.
“What do you think, Dru,” the man hissed through fanged teeth. “Are you hungry, or am I?”
“I’d like a snack, Pike,” said Dru with a smile.
“Fair enough,” said Pike, grabbing Allan’s arm and tossing him to the girl, who caught him without falling over, her grip revealing a terrible strength hidden within her waifish body.
“I’ll save some for you, love,” she hissed, her vampiric face shining through as she bit into his neck. He felt his blood drain from his body. His vision blurred, and then faded.
And Allan Finch heard his final words before dying.
---------
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” said Wilkins with distaste. “You’re going to get blood all over my nice clean carpet.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Dick,” said Pike, hoisting himself up onto the Mayor’s desk. “My Drusilla, she’s been trapped underground for the past year and a half. She’s not gonna let a drop go to waste. She’s hungry.”
Drusilla looked up from her meal, her yellow eyes piercing Richard’s mind. “Would you like a taste, Little Dickie Thricewise?”
“Oh, now that’s just icky,” said the Mayor, watching Allan Finch’s blood roll down Drusilla’s chin. “I have a box of wetnaps, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d…”
Drusilla’s grin widened, and her long tongue slithered out, catching most of the drip. “I don’t want any to get away,” she said.
“Well, that’s super,” said the Mayor with a roll of his eyes. “And could you stop calling me a thricewise? Disgusting creatures. All their power’s in… in… in fornication. And that’s just immoral.”
“Dru calls them as she sees them,” Pike shrugged.
“Now I tell you this, young man,” said Wilkins with a shake of his finger. “I married my Edna May in ought three, and she remained the little Cupie Doll she was until the day she died. You never saw her growing five stories. Not that I’m one to talk about my bedroom antics around strangers. Now get out!”
“Okay,” said Pike, standing up. “If you don’t wanna hear about the Slayer, we can leave right now. Let’s go, Dru.”
“The Slayer?” Wilkins said, rounding on Pike. “The Slayer’s here? In my town?”
“Well, yeah,” said Pike condescendingly. “What did you think? The Master accidentally tripped and fell down on a picket fence, or something?”
The Mayor stepped back, considering. Actually, he never really did think about who had killed The Master. He had assumed that it was probably one of those White Hats finally getting in a lucky shot, or one of those soldiers that still seemed to pop up around town. Heck, it could have even been one of The Master’s own people. That Harris fellow seemed the type.
In the end, all that had really mattered to Richard was that The Master was dead. But it all made perfect sense now…
“The Slayer,” Wilkins repeated. “The Slayer’s in my town. Well, no matter. In just a few minutes she won’t mean a lick to me. She won’t be able to touch me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some important business to attend to. And then the three of us can sit down and you can tell me all about the Slayer. Sound good?”
“Actually, no,” said Pike. “In fact, I don’t like your attitude around me, Mr. Dickie Thricewise. I don’t think we’re going to tell you one little iota about Buffy. I think Drusilla and I are going to get on our way, aren’t we, Dru?”
“I suppose so,” said Dru, dropping the drained corpse of Allan Finch to the ground. “And I was having so much fun playing with the earth and the fire.”
“Buffy,” said the Mayor. “Her name is Buffy. That’s… That’s quite an interesting… Wait… What did you…?”
Wilkins spun around in horror and sprinted towards the other door in his office. Slamming it open, he looked around the large, mostly empty room where his ritual had been carefully prepared.
Now…
“You… You….” Wilkins panted, head spinning at the sight of the intricately measured pentagram, now nothing more than a jumbled mess of white sand. Five candles, each once standing at the tips of the star, were now strewn across the room, one or two still flickering weakly within the center of their smashed votives.
“Fire and earth.” Wilkins jumped when he heard the voice inches from his ear, felt Drusilla’s fingertips on the back of his neck. “So pretty. So fun.”
“Aww,” said Pike from Wilkins’s other side. “Did we do that? Oopsie.”
“You…” the Mayor snarled. “You hateful little children! Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“We gone done made a mess of your purdy picture!” Pike cried, melodramatically slapping his hands to his cheeks.
“You’ve ruined the Dedication!” Wilkins yelled, walking helplessly around the room. “Decades of careful work, destroyed by you inconsiderate, hateful…”
“You already used the word ‘hateful’,” said Pike. “Listen, Dickie. You’re through. Dru and I, we’re taking charge of this little ‘burb.”
“Don’t speak of my town that way,” said Wilkins quietly. “There’s still time. I can still…”
“No, you can’t,” said Pike, grabbing Wilkins by the collar and dragging him away from the pile of sand. “And I can speak of your little puissant town any way I want. I’m from LA. Any town smaller than New York is a suburb to us. Now, let’s get down to business.”
“What business do I have with you?” screamed the Mayor, whose rational, calculating mind was already weighing his options. The Dedication isn’t important, he thought. It would only grant me invincibility. I can still Ascend. All I need to do is survive one hundred more days without being killed. It’ll be a lot more painful, and I won’t be able to ingest the contents of the Box, but some level of Ascension is still possible.
All I have to do is survive one hundred more days…
“Little Dickie’s thinking he still has power,” said Drusilla, walking around Wilkins to look into his eyes. “Little Dickie’s thinking he’s still going to see the light.”
“Little Dickie still thinks he’s gonna be the big cheese?” said Pike, dragging Wilkins by the arm and tossing him into the chair that sat across from the Mayor’s desk. “Little Dickie better tell us about the Glove of Mynhegon if he wants to survive the night.”
“Why should I tell you anything?” the Mayor bristled. “After everything you’ve done…”
“Well, see, the answer’s simple, Mr. Mayor,” said Pike, slowly walking around the chair. “See, Dru here is awful powerful. She happened to be sitting in The Master’s chamber when he got himself staked by Summers. So she’s got everything he had, plus she has The Sight.”
“Daddy loved my Sight,” said Drusilla. “That’s why he and Grandmother picked me. Snake in the woodshed.”
“Dru’s been around for a while,” Pike continued. “But me, I’m still new to this. I don’t have what she has. But I want to be everything I can be for her. And that means the Glove."
“You have The Sight?” said the Mayor. “Then why don’t you just See where your Glove is? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” said Pike. “Her Sight told us that you know. After all, you’ve been around this town for a hundred years. Founded it. You know about every graveyard, every tomb and mausoleum that’s been opened in Sunnydale. I bet you know exactly where it is.”
The Glove, Wilkins thought. Of course. I never used it because I knew I could never remove it. Hard to keep undercover with a big gauntlet strapped to your arm for one hundred years. But now that the Dedication’s been ruined, it’s a valid second option.
“Thricewise is thinking double-cross,” said Drusilla, perching herself on the desk.
“Double-cross, shmouble-cross,” said Wilkins. “I can tell you where the Glove is. And if you bring it back here to me, I can promise you two to be my most trusted advisors for the next one hundred days. The three of us can keep me alive until I Ascend, and then I can make you my deputies. My dukes. My prince and princess. I can give you whatever you want. I can give you power that will make the Gem of Amara look like a Cracker Jack toy. And not one of the really nice toys that they used to give out when I was pretending to be my father. I’m talking about the modern boxes that give stickers and really unsanitary rub-on tattoos.”
“Or we could just kill you,” said Pike.
“Or you could just kill me,” said Wilkins patronizingly. “Except you can’t. I signed a blood treaty with your kind when I first arrived here. I’d give the Hellmouth a town to feed on if you didn’t touch me for one hundred years. Which means no demon can kill me. None. Sorry to disappoint.”
“No killing?” asked Pike. “Well, that sucks. Hey, Dru, what do you think would happen if we cut his arms off?”
“That wouldn’t kill him,” said Drusilla.
“Excellent,” Pike replied, opening desk drawers. “Is there a letter opener around here somewhere?”
“No!” Wilkins cried. “No! Look, it doesn’t have to be this way. We can help each other.”
“You can help by telling us where the Glove is,” said Pike. “If you do, we just might save your eyeballs.”
The Mayor closed his eyes. And told them.
Pike and Drusilla saved his eyeballs.
---------
“An exchange of information?”
“I believe that would be most prudent,” said Gwendolyn Post, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I can assist in helping you find more on this new vampire threat, and you two and your Slayer can assist me and my charge in finding our target.”
“Well, I don’t see what your problem is,” said Merrick Jamison-Smythe. “I mean, it’s just a Lagos demon. You’ve tracked it across the country, I don’t see how finding it in Sunnydale’s going to be very difficult.”
“It’s not the finding it that will be the most difficult,” said Gwendolyn. “Nor will killing it. I’ve trained my charge well. Even though she’s a Potential, she still can fight as well as anyone. Isn’t that right, Faith?”
“Yeah, whatever,” said the raven-haired teenager, laying back against the library staircase, absently picking her fingernails with her teeth and wiping them on her tight white tank-top.
“I apologize for her behavior,” Gwendolyn said quietly, leaning in to the other Watchers. “I’m still trying to reign her in. She’s doing much better, but her previous Watcher hadn’t gotten very far with her before being killed.”
“Yes, I understand,” said Rupert Giles.
“Do you?” said Gwendolyn. “Have you had a Potential under your watch yet, Mr. Giles?”
“Well, not yet,” said Giles, uncomfortably wiping his glasses. “However, I have been working as a school librarian for almost three years now. I know exactly what teenage rebellion looks like, believe me.”
“Of course,” Gwendolyn said stiffly, looking down her nose at Rupert before returning her attention to Merrick. “Anyway, Mr. Smythe, the issue at hand is not the tracking of the Lagos, nor the fight. The issue is dealing with what he’s searching for.”
“And what’s that?” asked Merrick.
“What kind of a name is Jamison-Smythe, anyway?” asked Faith. “Sounds all British, but you sound American.”
“My parents were both Watchers from England,” Merrick answered. “Transferred to Ohio to train a Potential Slayer, and I was born there. We stayed after Lucy was past age, and I was raised American.”
“Killer,” said Faith, sounding bored already.
“Now if you will please stop interrupting us, Miss Lahane,” Merrick said shortly.
“Please, Mr. Smythe,” said Gwendolyn. “If you would let me handle my own charge...”
“Of course,” said Merrick. “I apologize.”
“No need,” Gwendolyn said with a wave of her hand. “Now if you will please stop interrupting us, Miss Lahane.”
“Your originality is epic, Post,” said Faith.
“The issue,” Gwendolyn forged on, “is the Glove of Mynhegon. It’s hidden somewhere in Sunnydale, the Lagos wants it, and we don’t want him to have it.”
"The Glove of Mynhegon," Giles muttered. "It sounds vaguely familiar. Merrick?"
"Mystical gauntlet?" Merrick asked, looking to Post for confirmation. "Grants the wearer extreme and unknown power?"
"One and the same," Gwendolyn replied with a nod. "Our sources state that it's hidden in one of Sunnydale's crypts. I suggest that we get a map of--"
She cut herself off quickly as the library door swung open and two teenage boys entered through the mass of students roving the halls on their way home for the day.
"Anyone get the news to you yet, Giles?" asked the larger of the two boys. Gwendolyn looked anxiously down at the table, which currently held three open mystical books, which she quickly closed, giving the boys a reassuring smile that didn't reach her eyes. Faith, on the other hand, seemed to perk up at the appearance of the two boys, breaking into a sultry grin.
"It's alright, Gwendolyn," said Giles gently. "They're with us. Miss Post, Miss Lahane, I would like to introduce you to Daniel Osbourne and Lawrence Blaisdell."
“Sup?” said Faith, eyeing Larry, who returned her look with a slightly uncomfortable glance.
"The fewer people associated with the work of the Slayer, the better," Post said to Giles. "You should know that."
"Well, we never had a Slayer before a few weeks ago, so we made due. What news was I supposed to be getting?"
“Another attack,” said Larry, tossing his book bag on the table and sitting down. “Surveillance picked up one man and one woman. At the Mayor’s office.”
“Good Lord,” said Giles. “The Mayor’s dead?”
“No, he’s not,” said Oz, falling down into the chair beside Larry. “But I think he wishes otherwise.”
“Arms and legs cut off,” Larry elaborated. “Ears, tongue, scalp. Slashes all across his chest and back. They left his eyes intact, but that’s about it. Poor bastard. The doctors are saying it’s a miracle he’s still alive. Almost like something’s keeping him from dying.”
“Unbelievable,” Merrick muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Faith lay back again, her face paling.
“If I may be so bold,” said Gwendolyn suspiciously, “how is it that you’ve come across all of this information?”
“The police have been trying to keep it under wraps,” said Larry. “Wilkins has a private ward of the hospital, no admittance.”
“So obviously everyone knows,” Oz finished. “Probably one of the students has a mom or dad working at the hospital or through the force. Also, the deputy mayor had bite marks, and was drained. So everyone’s talking vampire, too.”
“Everyone?” said Gwendolyn. “Surely the knowledge of vampires isn’t that prevalent in this town.”
“We lived under a ruthless vampiric regime for the last two and a half years, Miss Post,” said Giles. “They were quite difficult to ignore.”
“A man and a woman,” said Merrick, “Displaying an extreme knack for torture, probably enjoying every second of it. Plus they left behind their candy bar wrapper after they had their snack. Just like every other victim. Sounds like our M.O.”
“I concur,” said Giles, standing up and pacing the room. “Regular vampires don’t leave this kind of carnage behind. And now they’re taking it a step further, attacking the Mayor alive, almost as a symbol.”
“Okay, I’ve seen Seven,” said Faith, looking slightly green. “And I’ll tell ya, I have no clue what sin this one would cover.”
“They’re marking their territory,” said Merrick. “Maybe making a power play. Trying to establish themselves as the new big dogs of Sunnydale.”
“Then why wouldn’t they leave some clue as to who they are?” asked Larry.
“Maybe they don’t need to,” said Oz. “Maybe they’re already well-known around the vamp circles. Someone from The Master’s cronies?”
“It’s possible,” said Giles. “You two said you staked Willow, correct? You’re sure?”
“Yeah, and Buffy dusted Xander,” said Oz.
“So that’s one co-ed tag team out of the picture,” said Larry. “Maybe Darla and Luke? We haven’t heard from them in a while, and they weren’t in the warehouse.”
“Darla and Luke had been out of The Master’s circle for some time,” said Giles. “For being such major cogs early on, they were replaced rather quickly by Willow and Xander as The Master’s trusted advisors. And knowing The Master, knowing who Willow and Xander became after they were turned, I doubt either of them survived the demotion.”
“So that’s four piles of dust we can eliminate from the list,” Larry sighed. “Which leaves the names of about one hundred vamps who happen to be boinking.”
“Do you think we should investigate?” asked Oz. “Get a look around the Mayor’s office, see if there’s any clues?”
“Hey, maybe we can get a hold of the surveillance video! That might give us some faces!”
“I highly doubt it,” said Giles, sitting down again in frustration. “If there’s one thing I learned about the Sunnydale Police Department in my time here, it’s that they’ve never been very forthcoming with help or information. There’s a reason we were on our own so much, and that’s because the Mayor didn’t raise a finger, and the police fought a futile battle of suppression. They’ve hidden information in the past, and they haven’t done much more in the time since The Master’s death.”
Almost like something’s keeping him from dying…
Giles shook his head. More pressing concerns now. “So we don’t have any more information about the two vampires, except that they’re extremely dangerous, and they’re getting more bold as time passes.”
“They’re becoming a greater threat every day,” said Merrick. “Which is where my Buffy comes in. She’ll patrol the streets tonight while we assist Miss Post with locating the Glove.”
“What Glove?” asked Larry.
“The Glove of Mynhegon,” said Giles. “Beyond that, we don’t know much. Hence the research. Larry, find the graveyard maps, would you?”
“Perhaps Faith could accompany the Slayer?” said Gwendolyn as Larry nodded and stood up. “Get some first-hand experience with her?”
“I don’t believe that would be a good idea, Gwendolyn,” said Merrick.
“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea,” said Faith. “Besides, I wanna stay here with the big chunk of man meat.”
“I’m gay,” Larry said, never turning around as he searched through the stacks.
“Really?”
“Really,” said Oz and Giles together.
“Damn, it’s always the hot ones,” said Faith, standing up and stretching. “On second thought, Miss Post, I think I will take you up on that offer. My experience with books pretty much begins and ends with cats and hats.”
“I doubt Buffy would appreciate the company,” said Merrick shortly. “She works alone.”
“So I can tell by her crack research team,” said Gwendolyn. “Merrick, Faith is a Potential. She could quite possibly be the next Slayer. I wish to expose her to as much experience as possible. Don’t you think Miss Summers would be even better off had she spent time with India Cohen before she was Chosen?”
Merrick glared at Gwendolyn, his mustache bristling as he exhaled through his nose. “Very well,” he grunted. “I’ll allow it tonight. However, if Faith returns to you with a broken nose, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Sounds like a sweetheart,” said Faith.
“I’ll call her to let her know you’re arriving,” said Merrick, picking up the phone.
“Right on,” said Faith, starting towards the door and then turning around. “Where’s she at, anyway?”
“Sunny Hills Motel,” said Merrick, dialing the phone. “About a half-mile south of here on the edge of town. Room 238. Do you need directions?”
“Nah, I can swing it,” said Faith. “Post, should I check for vacancies?”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Faith,” said Gwendolyn. “I expect our search will be completed soon enough. And what’s this about Buffy staying in a motel?”
“We’re only here temporarily, too, Gwendolyn,” said Merrick as Faith left the library. “It’s still too close to Los Angeles for our comfort level. What’s the problem?”
“Do you think it’s wise to have the destroyer of this town’s primary evil sleeping in public accommodations?” said Gwendolyn. “It would be like shooting fish in a barrel for any vampire harboring a vengeance.”
“Very few of them know that she’s here,” said Giles. “The attack on the warehouse left very few survivors, and those that were left didn’t even know that she was the Slayer.”
“And she is the Slayer, after all,” said Merrick. “She can take care of herself, especially in the daylight. After all, you’re putting the life of your charge in her hands. You have to trust her too, right? Hello, Buffy,” he continued, putting the receiver to his mouth.
“Yes, I suppose,” said Gwendolyn, nervously looking at the door where Faith left moments before. “Anyway, we should probably continue to research the Glove. It would be in our best interest to find it and destroy it tonight.”
“Yes, of course,” said Giles. “It would be in everyone’s best interest. Merrick, make sure to tell her to keep an eye out for a Lagos demon tonight as well as any vampires.”
“She sees a demon, she kills it,” said Merrick. “That’s the way it’s always been.”
“So, okay,” said Larry as Merrick returned to his phone conversation, “Glove of Whatever. Big powerful. How do we destroy it?”
“That’s still something we’re hoping to discover,” said Gwendolyn.
“You two look for any references on the Internet about the Glove,” said Giles to Oz and Larry. “Gwendolyn and I will do our best to narrow down its location.”
“We’re on it,” said Oz, pushing back his chair and heading to the computer in the back of the library.
“As for its destruction,” Giles said to Post, “have you contacted the Council? They may be able to give us some assistance with the research.”
Gwendolyn cleared her throat nervously. “Actually,” she said quietly, “it would be greatly appreciated if both you and Merrick would keep our little journey out of the ears of the Watchers’ Council.”
“Why is that?” asked Giles. “I’m sure they would be more than willing-“
“They’ve frowned upon my methods, to be honest,” said Post. “They believe that a Potential should be trained, but their experience with actual danger should be limited until they are Chosen. They certainly disapprove of us traveling across the continent searching out a demon. I, on the other hand, think it’s wonderful experience for Faith for her future, no matter if it’s as Slayer or as a grown woman. It’s hands-on training, if you will. And I know my Faith can handle herself better than the Council believes.”
“Sounds fine to me, Miss Post,” said Merrick, hanging up the phone. “I think I speak for both of us when I say that we’ve had our disagreements with the Council in the past. I personally have had more than one occasion where my methods have been questioned, and I won’t say anything if you won’t. Rupert?”
“Yes, of course,” said Giles, returning to the maps. “Your secret is safe with us, Gwendolyn.”
Never Again / Previous Chapters / Faith, Pike and Sister Sunshine (2/4)