by Nancy Holder
* * *
Day was done, and Buffy was on patrol.
Cloaked by the black night, she moved through the shadows in the graveyard, alert, ready, checking the stakes in her belt. She had the sense that someone was watching her. That was fine with her. She’d like something to wallop the tar out of, since she couldn’t wallop Giles.
She moved on, as cautious as always, despite what Giles had to say about sloppy Slayage habits. He had his nerve, lecturing her. Who was the Slayer, anyway? Who put her life on the line every night while he read his musty old books?
The moonlight glinted off something on the ground. She knelt to examine it. It was a piece of a very small and delicate ID bracelet. She studied it, turning it in the dim light. There were three initials, E, N, and T engraved in a delicate scroll.
“There’s blood on it,” said a voice.
She started, then turned and relaxed. Sort of. Angel towered over her and she said in a rush, to hide her joy at seeing him, “Oh, hi. Nice to … blood?” She looked questioningly down at the bracelet.
Angel said simply, “I can smell it.”
She took that in, but she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “It’s pretty thin,” she observed. “Probably belonged to a girl.”
Angel glanced around the woods. “Probably.”
She laughed and he looked back at her. “I was just thinking. Wouldn’t it be funny to see each other some time when it wasn’t a blood thing?” She waited for him to say something. He just stared at her. She added, “Not funny ha ha.”
His face hardly changed at all. “What are you saying, you want to have a date?”
“No …” Was she saying that? And what would be wrong with a date, anyway? After all they’d been through together—
After the way he’d kissed her; after the dreams she’d had about him—
“You don’t want to have a date,” he stated.
Hey, wait, don’t shut that door, she thought anxiously. “Who said date? I never said date.”
“Right, you just want to have coffee or something.” What, was he a mind reader? How did he know about—
“Coffee?” she echoed.
“I knew this would happen.” He sounded kind of tired. Or resigned.
“What? What do you think is happening?” Her voice was high and shrill. She had to lower it. She had to be cooler.
“You’re sixteen years old. I’m two hundred and forty-one.”
Ouch, ouch, ouch. “I’ve done the math,” she said, trying not to sound like two-hundred and forty-one minus sixteen was two hundred and twenty-five.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t know what you want,” he went on, crushing everything crushable about her ego. He sounded so above it all. He sounded like he sure as heck wasn’t having dreams about her. Or maybe like he knew what he didn’t want.
“Oh, no?” she asked. “I think I do. I want out of this conversation.” She turned to walk about. He grabbed her and looked at her very hard.
“Listen, if we date, you and I both know one thing’s going to lead to another.”
It was a moment between them like other moments they had had. Slayer, vampire; girl, guy. It was mixed up. She was mixed up. But she did know one thing: Angel was in her life whether she wanted it or not, and whether he realized it or not.
“One thing already has led to another,” she shot back. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be reading me the warning label?”
“I’m just trying to protect you.” He was very serious. Very close. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted all the things girls wanted from guys they loved. “This could get out of control.”
She replied, her face raised toward his, her voice breathy, “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?”
Without warning, he pulled her roughly against his chest. A thrill shot through her—half excitement, half fear—as she looked up into his angry face. Was he going to kiss her, or attack her? Or for them, was it the same thing?
“This isn’t some fairy tale,” he said harshly. “When I kiss you, you don’t wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after.”
“No.” She knew that. She so knew that. In his arms, so close, so very close, she breathed against his neck and said, “When you kiss me, I want to die.”
She held his gaze—hadn’t he known that, realized that?—then turned and ran.
* * *
Daylight.
School.
Buffy slowly gathered her books off her desk as Cordelia breezed in.
Cordelia said, “Did you lose weight? And your hair…” Despite the fact that Buffy was ignoring her, Cordelia gave a little shrug and said, “All right. I respect you too much to be dishonest. The hair’s a little…”
She laughed. “Well, that’s not the point here, is it. The Zeta Kappas have to have a certain balance at their party, and Richard explained it all to me but I was so busy really listening that I didn’t hear much. Anyway, the deal is they need you to go. And if you don’t go”—she touched her chest as her eyes welled—“I can’t.”
Buffy looked at her, then looked down.
“I’m talking about Richard Anderson, okay?” Cordelia continued. “As in Anderson Farms, Anderson Aeronautics …” She almost burst into tears, “and Anderson Cosmetics.”
She caught herself and moved on. “Well, Buffy, you see why I have to go. These men are rich. And I’m not being shallow. Think of all the poor people I could help with all my money.”
Buffy said quietly, “I’ll go.”
“You’ll go?” Cordelia’s tears instantly dried. “Great! I’ll drive. Oh, Buffy, it’s just like we’re sisters … with really different hair!”
Cordelia sailed away. Buffy stared after her, no happier now than before Cordelia had come into the room.
* * *
Hooded figures watched among the rocks and candles of the eerie cavern below the Delta Zeta Kappa frat house. It was an ancient place, more a cave than a basement, cut from stone. A large stone stairway led down to it from the frat house main floor. Candles flickered on the walls of a large pit on the far side of the room.
A young man stood naked to the waist, a little eager, a little frightened, as Richard, his hood thrown back, pointed a sword at his chest.
Richard intoned, “I pledge my life, and my death.”
The young man repeated, his voice trembling slightly, “I pledge my life and my death.”
Richard went on. “To the Delta Zeta Kappas and to Machida, whom we serve.” He began to carve a symbol into the young man’s chest.
The young man didn’t flinch. “To the Delta Zeta Kappas and to Machida, whom we serve.”
No one else spoke. Richard’s voice rang out as he sliced the young man’s chest with the blade, “On my oath, before my assembled brethren.”
The young man said, “On my oath, before my assembled brethren.”
“I promise to keep our secret from this day until my death,” Richard finished.
“I promise to keep our secret from this day until my death,” the young man said firmly.
Richard lowered the sword. “In blood I was baptized, in blood I shall reign, in His name!”
The young man was full of fervor. “In blood I was baptized, in blood I shall reign, in His name!”
“You are now one of us,” Richard told him.
“In His name,” the young man replied, as around him, the others joined in like a chorus, echoing, “In His name.”
“Brewski time!” Richard cried.
Suddenly someone opened a cooler and flung mass quantities of beer to the masses. A boom box blared on and the music throbbed. What two seconds before had been a fairly brutal initiation ritual had become a typical frat party, as the frat brothers clapped the young man on the back and congratulated him.
Richard smiled, watching them, then turned his attention to the girl they had caught trying to escape. She hung in chains from the wall, and she was looking a little the worse for w
ear.
He said to her, “So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“Let me go,” she begged.
He cocked his head in thought. “Let you go? Okay, let me think … uh, no.”
She burst into tears and he laughed at her. He said, “Gawd, I love high school girls,” sipped his beer, and nodded his head to the music. This was the life.
The girl sobbed.
CHAPTER 2
Willow was wide-eyed as she said to Buffy, “You’re going to the fraternity party?”
They sat in the school lounge. Xander was officially reading a skateboard magazine but he was actually hanging on every word that passed between Buffy and Willow. They knew it, he knew they knew, it was the way it was.
“What made you change your mind?” Willow asked.
Buffy felt dejected all over again—make that rejected—as she said, “Angel.”
Willow was even more impressed. “He’s going with you?” She said to Xander, “She’s got a date with Angel. Isn’t that exciting?”
Xander said ironically, “I’m elated.”
Buffy knew that no way would they figure out the rest on their own, so she filled in the blanks. “I’m not going with Angel. I’m going with … ye, gods, Cordelia.”
“Cordelia?” Willow piped in. “Did I sound a little jealous just then? Because I’m not, really.” In the same tone as before, she re-piped, “Cordelia?”
Xander cut in. “Cordelia’s much better for you than Angel.”
As they left the lounge and headed down the hall, Willow asked, “What happened with Angel?”
Buffy almost hated talking about it. She felt kind of stupid, blathering on about her intense dreams the way she had, then remembering his I-need-to-protect-you-from-my-savage-need monologue. She could stake vampires from now to doomsday. She could manage to keep her life as a career slaying machine a secret, even from her mom. But she couldn’t protect herself from Mr. Demon Lover?
“Nothing,” she said flatly. “As usual. A whole lot of nothing with Angel.”
Xander looked very happy as he said, in a voice dripping with commiseration, “Bummer.”
Willow said, “I don’t understand. He likes you. More than likes you.”
“Angel barely says two words to me,” Buffy told her miserably.
“Don’t you hate that,” Xander offered.
“And when he does, he treats me like a child,” Buffy went on.
“That bastard!” Xander cried.
“You know, at least Tom can carry on a conversation.” The thought caused her a small amount of joy. Or was she talking herself into it?
“Yeah, Tom,” Xander said brightly. Then, “Who’s Tom?”
“The frat guy,” Willow explained.
“Oh, Buffy, I don’t think so.” Xander weighed the options. “Frying pan, fire. You know what I’m saying?”
* * *
In the library, Giles moved stealthily, thrust with the short sword, turned and lunged, turned and lunged, did a half-circle as he thrust again, asking “Will you be ready if a vampire is behind you?”
Then he launched the coup de grace, a sharp downward thrust into the imaginary villain’s evil, unbeating heart as—
Buffy, Willow, and Xander strolled through the library’s double doors.
He straightened and said, “Oh. Didn’t see you three creeping about.” He tossed the sword into the weapons locker. “How did it go last night?”
Buffy showed him the bracelet. “I found this.”
Willow looked at it as Giles took it from her. Xander sat on the checkout counter and continued reading his magazine. Giles made a mental note that the boy had some sort of outside interest besides Buffy, and was glad of it.
Giles read the letters aloud. “E, N, T.”
Willow ventured, “I’ve seen something like that before.”
“It’s broken in two,” Buffy said. “I don’t know what the other letters might have spelled. And there’s blood on it.”
Her powers of observation must be keener than he credited. “Oh, I didn’t see any,” he offered.
“Angel”—Buffy’s voice caught on the name—“showed up. He could smell it.”
From his perch, Xander said, “The blood? There’s a guy you want to party with.”
“Blood,” Giles said, mentally starting a list of clues. That led to what, he wondered.
“In Sunnydale.” Willow flashed an expression of mock innocence. “What a surprise.”
Xander closed his magazine and slid off the counter. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. She should probably make the rounds again tonight and we should try to figure out who that bracelet belongs to.”
Giles nodded at Xander’s strategy. “Good idea. She’ll patrol, and we’ll reconvene—”
“Oh, hello,” Buffy sang out, “ ‘she’s standing right here, and she’s not available.”
Giles was taken aback. “Why not?”
Xander began, “Buff, this is a little more important than—”
Buffy made a little face and said, “I’ve got a mountain of homework to do. My mom’s not really feeling well and she could probably use my help. And to be truthful, I’m not feeling all that well myself.”
Giles said in a rush, “Oh, sorry. Of course if you’re not well…”
“I’ll take an early pass this evening and one later, but for the bulk of the evening . . .”
Excellent girl. Despite her illness she was not shirking her duty. Giles said generously, “You should stay with your mother.”
* * *
The Three Musketeers left the library. Xander stared at Buffy, who stared back, arms folded. She said, “Well, say it.”
Xander shrugged. “I’m not going to say it.”
“You lied to Giles,” Willow said.
Xander jabbed a finger in Willow’s direction. “Because she will.”
Buffy insisted, “I wasn’t lying. I was protecting him from information he wouldn’t be able to …” she grimaced, knowing how lame this was sounding, “digest properly.”
“Like a corn dog,” Xander zinged.
“Like you don’t have a sick mother,” Willow accused, “but you’d rather go to a frat party where there’s going to be drinking and older boys and probably an orgy?”
Xander’s eyes got big. “Whoa! Rewind! Since when did they have orgies and why aren’t I on the mailing list?”
Buffy retorted, with more certainty than she felt, “There’re no orgies.”
Willow appeared unconvinced. “I’ve heard a lot of wild things go on at frat parties.”
“Okay, you know what?” Buffy stopped walking. “Look. Seven days a week I’m busy saving the world. Once in a great while I want to have some fun. And that’s what I’m going to have tonight. Fun.”
* * *
Cordelia sat across from Buffy as if she were visiting her in the big house instead of the student lounge. She said, “This isn’t about fun tonight. It’s about duty. Your duty to help me achieve permanent prosperity. Okay?” She paused a moment to let the import of the mission sink in. “Okay, dos and don’ts. Don’t wear black, silk, chiffon, or Spandex. These are my trademarks. Don’t do that weird thing to your hair.”
Buffy frowned slightly. “What weird—?”
“Don’t interrupt,” Cordelia said. “Do be interested if someone should speak to you—may or may not happen. Do be polite, do laugh at appropriate intervals—” she did the weird laugh, “Ha-ha ha-ha.”
Buffy thought to ask her if she’d ever seen Amadeus on the late show. That crusty old composer-guy, Salieri, had killed the other composer-guy, Mozart, for laughing like that.
Xander and Willow happened in. They went over to the vending machine.
“And do lie to your mother about where we’re going,” Cordelia continued. “It’s a fraternity, and there will be drinking.”
On that happy note, Willow and Xander wandered over. Xander said to Cordelia, “So, Cor, are yo
u printing up business cards with your pager number and hours of operation or just going with the halter top tonight?”
“Ahh, are we a little envious?” Cordelia dished it back at him. “Don’t be. You could join a fraternity of rich, powerful men. In the Bizarro world.”
Buffy smiled invitingly for the Slayerettes to take a seat. “You guys want to … ?”
“Nah, I gotta digest and all,” Xander drawled.
He and Willow moved away. Cordelia turned her full attention back on Buffy, tapping her fingers, thinking hard. Buffy wondered, not for the first time, what insane part of her mind she had used when she’d agreed to this.
No part. It was her hurt feelings that she’d used to think with.
“Makeup, makeup,” Cordelia pondered, rubbing her chin. “Well, just give it your all and keep to the shadows.” Cheerily, she closed the meeting. “We are going to have a blast!”
Buffy slammed her forehead against the table.
* * *
Willow sat with Xander a distance away. She said to him, “I can’t believe she lied to Giles. My world is all askew.”
“Buffy lying?” he said hotly. “Buffy going to frat parties? That’s not askew, that’s cockeyed!”
“Askew means cockeyed,” she said kindly.
“Oh.” He took their Coke from her and had a sip.
Willow took their bag of candy from him. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll help Giles—”
Xander interrupted her. “I’m going to the party.”
Willow was surprised. “What?”
“I want to keep an eye on Buffy. Those frat guys creep me.”
“You want to protect her.” He nodded. “And you want to prove you’re as good as those rich, snotty guys.” He nodded again. “And maybe catch an orgy.”
“If it’s on early,” he allowed.
She ate candy.
He drank Coke.
* * *
It was a mad scene, cars squealing up the drive, music blasting. The Delta Zeta Kappa house was enormous, and the party inside it sounded huge.
And up roared the vehicle belonging to the ambassadress from the Planet of Ambitious High School Girls: personalized plate, QUEEN C. Buffy braced herself in the passenger seat, ready for the deployment of her air bag.