by Various
“You are not human,” the vampire stated.
“Not all of the time.”
Absalom completed his circuit, returned to stand face to face with the figure once more. He was careful to keep himself at least an arm’s length away. There was no sense in being stupid, after all.
“What are you?” he asked.
The figure smiled. “You’re evading the real issue,” it said. “Why is that, I wonder?”
Absalom puffed his chest out. “Do you think to question my authority?”
“Not in the least,” the figure remarked. “I’ve merely come to offer my services. I believe that I have . . . attributes that you will find useful. That I can do something that you cannot.”
Again, a mutter of sound swept through the room. Absalom stared it down.
“And that would be?” he asked.
“I can right a great wrong. Help you avenge the death of the Master.”
“How?”
The figure smiled. As if Absalom had finally asked the question for which it had been waiting so patiently.
“I can deliver the Slayer,” it replied.
In Jenny Calendar’s apartment, the phone rang. Jenny moved to pick it up.
This had better be Rupert, calling to apologize. Being shoved full force into a tree did not go over well. Even now, a full day later, she still had a knot on the back of her head the size of the state of Minnesota.
“Hello?” she said into the phone.
The voice on the other end spoke swiftly, urgently.
“I’m not sure I can,” Jenny protested. “It’s not the best time right now.”
She jerked the portable away from her ear as the voice on the other end rose insistently.
“All right, all right, I’ll be there,” she said. “There’s no need to yell. As soon as I can. Yes. Right.”
She hit the “off” button, stood still for a moment as if considering. Then reactivated the phone and punched in a number. A moment later, Giles’s voice came over the line.
“Rupert Giles here. Thank you for phoning. I’m sorry I can’t speak with you at the moment. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll return your call as expeditiously as I can.”
Irritated, Jenny hit the “off” button once more and hung up the phone. Then she went into her bedroom. Sliding open the closet door, she grabbed the duffel bag that was always packed and ready to go. Pausing only to get a bottle of water from the fridge, and snatch up her car keys, she headed for the front door.
Giles was probably at the library, she thought. She’d try him there on her way out of town.
Out of town. Just great.
Leaving only Giles and Angel to guard the Hellmouth.
“So you can deliver the Slayer?” Absalom said. He was feeling much better all of a sudden. This thing, whatever it was, would pose no threat. Not as long as Absalom knew things it didn’t.
“And just how will you do that?” he inquired. He strode to the chunk of concrete and sat down once more. “Our reports tell us she’s left Sunnydale. Her Watcher has bundled her off somewhere, to lick her wounds, no doubt.”
The figure made a face. “What a pity,” it remarked. “I had hoped — still, you might find me useful. I believe I met the Watcher, in fact. Just last night.”
“So?”
“Ah,” the figure said. “You’re absolutely right. I have left out an important part. If you’ll be so good as to allow me to demonstrate?”
Absalom made a gesture of permission.
And the figure changed before his very eyes. Like an image blurred by a rain-dashed window, the body wavered, lost focus, then began to reform.
Arms and legs grew shorter. The body, stockier. Face, more square-jawed. Even the clothes changed. Khaki slacks, tweed jacket. Button-down shirt and tie. Wire-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
“I trust I need no further introduction?” he inquired.
“You’re a shapeshifter,” Absalom said.
“Well done,” said Rupert Giles.
“How does it work?” Absalom asked.
The shapeshifter had once again regained its normal, slim form and was alone with Absalom in the cavern. Absalom no longer needed an audience. What he needed was a serious talk with his new ally.
“It’s simple enough,” the shapeshifter replied. “To acquire a being’s form, all I need is physical contact. Then, I can become that being later, at will, in any circumstance I like.”
“Can anybody ever tell the difference?”
“There is no real difference,” the shapeshifter said. “If I assume the form of a vampire —”
Its body performed that strange rippling motion Absalom had observed before, then settled into the form of one of the vampires who had captured it in the tunnels.
“I am a vampire,” the shapeshifter went on. “I hunt like one. Kill like one.”
“And if you assume the shape of a human, you die like one,” Absalom put in.
With another ripple, the shapeshifter reassumed its own shape.
“True,” it acknowledged. “Though I wasn’t actually thinking of killing the Slayer, at least not right off. I was thinking more along the lines of bringing her to you, then assuming her form while you and your gang of ruffians had time to play.”
“No,” Absalom ground out. “I want her dead.”
“And so she will be — eventually,” the shapeshifter soothed softly. “But why rush things? Kill her now and you’ll only bring another one down on your head in her place.”
“I can’t kill her at all if she isn’t here,” Absalom pointed out.
“True,” the shapeshifter acknowledged once again. It rose from its seat beside Absalom and began to wander about the room. “Still, we are not without advantages.”
“Such as?”
“No wonder your side lost the last round,” the shapeshifter muttered under its breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking out loud,” the shifter said. “I can assume the form of her Watcher, the one responsible for guiding her,” it spelled out. “The one she trusts the most. Surely that must work to our advantage. And the Watcher is the direct link to the Council, after all.
“Now that I think about it, the possibilities for mayhem, even with the Slayer temporarily away, are so numerous as to be practically endless. Once we have those close to her, sooner or later, we’ll have the Slayer herself.”
“I like it,” Absalom said.
The shapeshifter smiled. “I rather thought you might,” it said. “We’re agreed, then? I give you the time you need to get your motley crew in order by distracting those near and dear to the Slayer. And you don’t interfere while I play my little games.”
“Agreed,” Absalom said.
“I’ll start with the Watcher first, I think,” the shapeshifter continued. “He’s the one who controls the others.”
“You sound like him already,” Absalom muttered.
“Do you really think so? How nice.”
“It’s the wrong time of year for Girl Scout cookies,” Angel said.
He stood framed in the doorway of his apartment while Giles shifted uneasily out in the hall.
“Your feeble attempt at humor is noted,” the Watcher said. “Now, may I please come in? There are things we need to discuss.”
Angel stepped back, his face unreadable, and gestured Giles across the threshold. “Be my guest,” he said. “You’ll understand if I don’t offer you something to drink.”
Giles glanced around the apartment, noticing the books scattered everywhere. The stark drawings adorning the walls. An old armoire. When he realized all he was doing was distracting himself, he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation.
Come on. Get it over with, he urged himself.
He and Angel had worked together before. Sort of. United in their concern over the prophecy predicting the death of the Slayer. And then, as now, it had been the Watcher who’
d come to the vampire. That ought to make this easier. But it didn’t.
You’ve done it before, you can do it again.
Giles slid his glasses back into place. “I fear we may have a situation,” he informed Angel. “Jenny — Ms. Calendar — has just been called away.”
Angel muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” Giles inquired.
“Nothing,” Angel said. “So, that means it’s just you and me, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Giles confirmed.
“What’s the matter, Giles?” Angel asked. “Concerned that, with Buffy gone, I’ll revert to my true colors? In case you’ve forgotten, she was gone the other night and that was still me saving your —”
“Yes, well,” Giles broke in, his tone waspish. “I’m sure you’ll just have to forgive me if this whole situation is still a tad difficult for me to accept. We’re talking about setting aside virtually a whole lifetime’s worth of training. I’m sure you’re one in a million, Angel, but —”
“Actually, I don’t think there are that many of us anymore.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a vampire,” Giles said.
“Nothing changes that,” Angel answered, his voice like the crack of a whip. “I don’t need you to pay housecalls to state the obvious, Giles. What do I have to do to prove myself? Stand still and take a stake through the heart?”
The thought had occurred.
“I see,” Angel said.
“You don’t see anything. I haven’t answered the question.”
“I think you have,” Angel said. “But it doesn’t really change anything, does it? With Jenny gone, it’s just you, me and the Hellmouth.”
“Precisely,” Giles said. “I’m willing to . . . work to . . . set aside my . . . natural prejudices, if you are.”
“The Council has an Affirmative Action policy? How very PC of them,” Angel said.
“If the Council knew I was directly enlisting the aid of a vampire, they’d have my head on a plate,” Giles snapped. “I can be replaced, Angel. You might remember that. You may actually stand a chance of convincing me of your good intentions. But you’ll never convince the Council, that I can guarantee.”
“In other words, we’re stuck with each other.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Giles said. He looked at Angel, standing motionless on the far side of the room. “I will try. I honestly will.”
“That’s about all I can hope for then, isn’t it?” Angel asked.
“Well, you can just forget about it if you’re going to start whining,” Giles said.
A faint smile flickered across Angel’s features. “Got anything on the whatever-it-is from the other night?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” Giles said. “Um — you?”
“Not a thing,” Angel said. “It’s kind of odd, though.”
“What is?” Giles asked.
“Ever since that thing showed up, there hasn’t been much action. Things are pretty quiet out there.”
“That is interesting,” Giles commented. “So, I guess we wait for the whatever-it-is to make its next move.”
“We could do that,” Angel said.
“You have a better suggestion?”
“Well, there’s always the direct approach.”
“Which is?”
“We hunt it down and kill it,” Angel said.
In the shadows, the shapeshifter watched as the Watcher left the vampire’s apartment, climbed into a battered car and struggled to get it started.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “It seems the unholy alliance is heating up.”
The car sputtered to life, and Giles pulled away from the curb. A moment later, the shapeshifter stepped into the pool of illumination cast by the over-head streetlight. The hot white glare reflected off its wire-rimmed glasses.
“Let’s just see what I can do to further the cause, shall we?” he murmured.
“I’m bored,” Willow Rosenberg said.
She and her longtime good friend, Xander Harris, were sitting at a table at the Bronze, the remnants of a major food event littering the table in front of them.
“It’s not boredom,” Xander said. “You’ve had too much sugar. You’re in a coma.” He picked up an unopened package of cupcakes, then set it down again. “And I think I’m about to join you.”
“Come on, you know what I mean,” Willow protested. “Ever since we buried the Master’s bones things have been so quiet. No supernatural murder and mayhem. No imminent apocalypses. No vampires.”
“Explain to me again why this is a bad thing?”
“Well, it isn’t, really,” Willow acknowledged. “But you have to admit, things do seem a little flat by comparison. Fighting the powers of darkness does add a certain spice to life.”
“I prefer mild,” Xander informed her.
“I guess what I’m really saying is —”
“I know, I miss her too.”
The two friends sat in silence for a moment, staring at the pile of candy wrappers before them.
“I had a postcard,” Willow volunteered. “It said, ‘Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.’ ”
“How’d she think up something like that?” Xander wondered.
“Well, at least it shows she was thinking about us,” Willow said. There was a tiny pause. “She had to look up my address.”
“Guess she thinks mine’s unlisted.”
“Xander, I —”
“Don’t sweat it,” Xander said. “I mean, really. I save her life, and I don’t even rate a tacky postcard? But hey, I can deal. I can be Mr. Stiff Upper Lip.”
“Sounds painful.”
“You have no idea.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Willow said.
“Good idea.”
Together, the two friends slid off their stools and headed for the Bronze’s exit.
“I’ll walk you home,” Xander offered.
“That’s okay,” Willow said. “I mean, things have been pretty quiet lately. You know, ever since . . .”
“So, you wanna do something tomorrow? Like maybe . . . watch some grass grow?”
Willow nodded. “Definitely. I’ll call you. We’ll do lunch.”
“Please, don’t mention food,” Xander begged.
The redhead smiled. “See you tomorrow,” she said. She turned the corner that would take her toward her house, automatically glancing back over her shoulder from time to time, then grimacing when she realized what she was doing.
I’ll probably never again walk the Sunnydale streets at night without looking over my shoulder.
Things had been quiet lately, it was true. But there was still something about knowing that all those things you always feared went bump in the night actually did.
And about half of them were probably following you.
Willow spotted a figure crossing the empty street in front of her.
“Giles?” she called out.
The figure stopped, turned toward her.
“Giles, it’s Willow,” she said, coming forward into a pool of light. “What are you doing here?”
The figure was silent, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before, his face absolutely expressionless. Willow felt a cold prickle of alarm slide down her spine.
“Giles, is everything all right?” she said.
With a start, Giles snapped out of it. “Willow, of course it’s you,” he said. “No need for alarm. Just out for an evening stroll. If you see Angel, do be sure and say hello for me, won’t you? ’Night now.”
Before Willow could get another word in edgewise, the thing that looked like Giles but was acting strange, even for him, strode off down the street and vanished around the nearest corner.
That was definitely more than a little weird.
Willow cocked her head, straining her ears to catch the faint snatch of sound drifting back from around the corner.
She could have sworn that it was laughte
r.
“Xander?” a voice behind him said.
Quickly, Xander spun around, then hated himself for backing up a step. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to sneak up on people?”
“To tell you the truth, I can’t remember,” Angel said.
“Well, it would be kind of a long time ago,” Xander remarked. “And your brain cells would currently be dead.”
Angel’s forehead wrinkled. In a perplexed sort of way. “Are you mad at me or something?” he asked. “ ’Cause I was thinking maybe we could, you know, hang out.”
Okay, now I know I’m in a sugar coma, Xander thought. The last person in the world he’d want to hang out with was Angel. A feeling he’d always taken to be entirely mutual.
Not that Angel actually counted as a person, of course.
“All right, where’s the real Angel and what have you done with his body?” he asked.
For a fraction of an instant, the vampire’s face went totally blank. In the next, he laughed.
“Good one,” he said. “So, was that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?
“I’ve got a curfew,” Xander informed him.
“Too bad,” Angel said. “Hey, if you happen to see Giles, tell him I said hello, will you?”
Xander began to feel as if he was in the middle of the pop quiz from Hell. If a guy saw a thing that looked like a vampire named Angel, but didn’t sound or act like a vampire named Angel, was it really a vampire named Angel?
“Are we being taped for some kind of vampire Funniest Home Videos?” Xander asked.
Angel gave him a slap on the back that sent him staggering. “You are so funny!” he said. “How come I never noticed that before?”
“I can’t imagine,” Xander answered. What he could imagine was getting out of here. Right now. “Are we done yet? ’Cause I’d really like to go inside. You’ll understand if I don’t invite you to come with me.”
“No problem,” Angel said. “Catch you next time.”
He strode off down the street, long coat flapping.
That’s it, Xander thought as he let himself into the house. I am never eating an entire five-pound bag of M&Ms in one sitting again as long as I live.
Plainly, it could be hazardous to one’s health.
Not a bad evening’s work, the shifter thought as he strolled down the street. He was finished with phase one. Planting doubts in the minds of the Slayer’s friends. Sowing confusion.