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Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Game of Love
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Season 8.03
Disclaimer: Joss owns all of these characters whose names you recognize, and I probably only barely own any of the ones I made up since I'm using them in his house.
Notes: This story is set about a year after Season 8's first story arc, "The Long Way Home", and is therefore about 2.5 years since "Chosen". No open canon-breaking, but the story assumes (without details) that whatever caused Dawn's problems at the start of Season 8 has been resolved.
Prologue
Rupert Giles parked his rented car on the rain-soaked street. No matter how innocent this slice of German countryside looked, he dare not park close enough to his destination to risk being seen. Casting a wary look in each direction, Giles discreetly slipped off the sidewalk between two small shops in the town square and found the path he was looking for. He pulled his overcoat tighter to ward off the rain and cold, abandoning any idea of an umbrella so he could have a better chance to spot anyone following him.
Coming out of the alley onto the next street over, Giles turned to his left and walked briskly out of the small town to the first residential cottage on the block. With one last look over his shoulder, and a word of silent thanks to the unreasonable riches of the Council he'd inherited by default, he placed his eye up to the hidden retina scanner in the doorway and slipped inside.
"Oh, at last," he sighed with relief, taking his overcoat off and hanging it by the door of the Slayer safehouse. Tugging his sweater back down, and taking a deep breath, he turned back to the people waiting for him in the cottage's fire-lit living room. "I came as quickly as I could without being spotted."
Already seated, he saw, Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg were quietly sipping on tea. Every time he saw them, he was at first struck by their maturity. They'd been only 16 when he'd met them, and, along with Buffy, had become surrogate children. Now they were all adults, and all powerful in their way, and the two sharing the room with him looked patient and pleased to see him. He could see on the coffee table a cup of tea was already brewing for him.
"I could tell you were coming, so I thought we'd go ahead and have tea on for you," Willow said by way of explanation. She particularly had come so far from the babbling young girl she'd been. It's as if the more she'd grown as a magical woman, the less she felt she had to explain or justify in speech.
"I remember you explaining the whole ?tea is soothing' thing to me, and I knew you'd be showing up pretty anxious," Xander added. The young man was dressed much like Giles himself, except for the patch that marked his missing eye. His growth had been even more noticeable than Willow's or Buffy's in recent years. He had become a de facto general and commandant to the world wide army of Slayers they'd created, center of their communications and tactical network. In this role he had defied even the most optimistic opinion of his potential that Giles had held for him as a boy.
It was because of the new man he saw in Xander that Giles had come running in response to his call.
"Xander, Willow, I'm glad you both made it safely. Whatever the crisis is, I'm sure we'll be able to overcome it."
Willow nodded gratefully and turned her gaze to Xander. Giles did the same. It was, after all, his meeting. Xander, however, didn't seem nearly as concerned. In fact, he finally broke into a smile.
"Guys, I'm sorry if you got too worried. I just needed to make sure I could get you both here at the same time," Xander began apologetically, "with you in St. Petersburg, Giles, and Willow ?" he looked at her with a helpless gesture, a reminder to Giles of how hard it was to account for Willow's whereabouts at any given time. Giles saw him start and stop from continuing again and was finally so confused he couldn't wait for the young man to get it out.
"Xander, you said Buffy was in trouble..." Giles began, cautiously.
"Well, I suppose that was true, depending on your point of view," Xander cut in. He made pausing gestures in the air, like he was trying to grasp the right way to begin out of the air.
"Xan, if she's in trouble, we're here to help. You don't have to deal with this alone. Just say ?Avengers assemble' and it's yours," Willow encouraged. Giles saw Xander shaking his head now, as if embarrassed.
"Man, I didn't realize this would be so awkward. Look, guys, the reason I called, and the reason I needed you both here, is that there is something you need to know about what's going on at the castle," he tried again.
Giles, feeling exasperated now, just gestured with open-handed impatience. Willow stared pensively over to Xander from her seat.
"I had this whole thing planned in my head, and that's worthless ? it rolled right out of my eyehole." This was an expression Giles knew Xander meant for forgetfulness, but it never failed to disgust him.
"Xander, stop babbling and tell us what's going on," Giles commanded, keeping his voice just in check of anger, "You can't just call ?"
"I'm going to ask Buffy to marry me," Xander broke in, letting the sentence out like a long, slow breath. Willow's eyes went wide in surprise, and Giles felt his words catch in his throat. He mentally stumbled for words a few times and failed. His train of thought lost completely, he finally walked over to the sofa next to Willow on wooden legs. Speechless, he flopped onto the couch cushions and reached for his tea.
"I'm asking Buffy to marry me," Xander repeated, more confidently this time, "and I want to make sure that I have both of your blessings before I do."
Chapter 1
A wise beyond her years Italian bartender had once described the life of American girls in Rome to a couple of visitors very succinctly: "Many blond American coeducationals. Spring break? The girls, they go wild."
The blond American coeducational currently slipping through the crowd inside the Roman nightclub may not have heard those specific words, but she clearly expressed the sentiment: long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and dressed to kill in a black minidress and obscenely high heels. Like many others, she was looking for a good time at a popular club. But this one was different than the others for many reasons. Not the least of which was that she could care less about the men on the dance floor. She was only interested in the wrinkled, dour man standing in a small crowd next to an unassuming curtain entrance off the main club. Her interest was simple: he had the list.
The woman slid gracefully past some club-goers, and rudely through others, on her way to her goal. When she arrived, she took a moment to tease her hair a little. She sauntered up to the man with the list, ready to entice her way behind the curtain.
"Signorina, please do not even ask," The wrinkled man cut her off in an almost cartoonish Italian accent, "the list is full tonight, and even if it wasn't, he has no need of a woman of your particular, ah, gifts."
The blond woman was not deterred by the simpering tone of the bouncer. "He hasn't seen my gifts, buster, so don't try to tell me ?"
"He already has a blond. She is lovely beyond words, she is powerful, and, unlike you, she is invited."
"I don't care how powerful you think his little? little ?bint' is, but I'm powerful-er!" No matter how much time she had spent around British slang, it still sounded stupid when she tried to use it.
"I do not think so, lady vampire. The Immortal's ragazza is the Slayer amongst Slayers, the lady Buffy Summers," the demonic bouncer declared, bragging on behalf of his master. Daring just a bit more ego and vicarious pride, he pulled the curtain back from the Immortal's VIP lounge, allowing the woman to peek inside to see the Immortal and his prize reclining. He was prepared to watch this interloping vampire's face crumble in embarrassment for having bothered at all. What he was stunned to see was the woman's face light up in a knowing, delighted grin.
"You are the worst bouncer ever, then, because I happen to be Buffy Summers' arch-nemesisisis?" Harmony Kendall trailed off as she struggled with the word. Shaking her head, she continued: "That isn't Buffy Summers."
The bouncer winced in shame as he stepped into the Immortal's VIP lounge. If the vampire was telling the truth, the Immortal was going to be embarrassed beyond the telling, and angry. But it couldn't be true! This woman must be the Slayer, Buffy Summers. They had done locating spells, they had tested articles of her clothing while she and His Benevolence had been in flagrante ? all had confirmed beyond question that his new paramour was the legendary Slayer.
But if it wasn't?
If it wasn't, there is no question who is responsible, he knew. The Immortal may be taken in ? he'd never seen it, but, si, it could be done as such things were done. But he, Alfonso, was responsible for who did and did not receive an audience with his master. Whether that audience was in the club, in battle, or in his bed chamber, the Immortal had trusted him for 500 years to preserve his privacy and his pride.
Alfonso decided would not compound the possible error by sneaking around the situation for more tests. He would trust his master's judgment and mercy and bring the concern directly to his attention. For was not the Immortal called His Benevolence even by those that did not serve him? Still, it was daunting ? Alfonso found himself struggling to form any words or action to draw the Immortal's attention away from the young woman whose thigh he currently caressed in the dark and quiet ambience of his lounge.
"Alfonso, why are you troubled?" The Immortal's voice pierced through all of Alfonso's hesitation. The tone sounded the gentle and concerned, but after centuries, Alfonso felt the metal beneath it quiver as if struck. With a glance to see that the young woman who was supposed to be Buffy Summers was paying no attention, Alfonso leaned in to whisper his concern to His Benevolence. Surely that nickname would be deserved today.
"Master, there is a young woman, a vampire, who insisted upon an audience. I confess that in turning her away I erred in arrogance to show her a glimpse of you as you entertain here. When I did, she caused great alarm by insisting that la ragazza is not who she has claimed to be."
The Immortal's face was hard to see, at times, and that was a relief. Alfonso could see flashes of alarm and anger in his master's eyes before the normal imperturbable expression returned. He appeared as a human man of as many as 40 years, or as few as 20. Black hair that swept loosely back and down to his shoulder, Alfonso knew that he was concerned extraordinarily handsome in every age of history. That didn't change the fact that sometimes, you still couldn't quite get your eyes to grip the man's features.
"Alfonso, you don't mean to be so rude as to suggest that Miss Summers is something other than who I know her to be," the Immortal spoke with neither question nor threat, but just as casually as if he'd asked for a new bottle of wine to be opened.
"Master, I would never question your own judgment and I assure you I did all that is required to assure her identity. This vampire, however, claims to have been a classmate of Miss Summers before her own change, and challenged her identity without having even seen her straight on."
Alfonso took a deep breath as he watched the Immortal's face consider the idea. He was slow to anger at most times, but it was also not often that he was facing such a monumental public insult as to be deceived by a lover. A lover who had been favored with his company for more than two years, no less.
"Show her in, Alfonso. You did very well to bring this to me immediately," the Immortal declared. "Bring her in, but do not announce her. We shall let Miss Summers introduce us."
With a nod, Alfonso returned to the curtain and the list he'd left. He greatly admired his master's desire to deal directly with any embarrassment, no matter who might see. The vampire tart who'd ruined the evening was waiting for him, hands on her hips. Mustering what regality he could, Alfonso silently gestured for her to enter the lounge, falling in behind her as she briskly marched up to the Immortal.
Or, trying to march up to the Immortal. Alfonso, only a few steps behind, felt his pride of employment refresh as the vampire, this Harmony, came up short when the Immortal turned to look at her. The Immortal's gaze held a hypnotic sway which was part of what allowed him to maintain the civility and compliance of so many. This whorish intruder clearly had felt an urge to stand and just admire the Immortal, rather than intrude on him.
"Good evening, signorina," The Immortal offered, standing from his preferred seat and gesturing for Buffy ? it must be Buffy, Alfonso insisted ? to rise and join him as hostess to their new guest. The Immortal turned to his lover expectantly, "I'm given to understand that you are old friends. Please do me the pleasure of an introduction."
Alfonso knew the game was over when the Slayer's expression flickered ? any recovery she tried to make now was meaningless. More frustrating than his own professional embarrassment and his master's personal embarrassment was seeing, standing next to him, this Harmony's graceless expression turn into a satisfied grin.
Kristy had been trained for weeks in being Buffy Summers. She'd seen the fact that she became a Slayer as fulfillment of a lifelong feeling that she could do and be something more special than anyone could imagine. Spells had been cast, hair had been styled, mannerisms had been coached by her "Watcher" Andrew, and a mission had been given to her. She was the Secret Service of the supernatural. She would pretend, very publicly, to be Buffy Summers so that a world of dangerous people and demons would try to kill her instead.
It was insane to volunteer for, but it was definitely an envied position. And it wasn't without perks. She never thought she could fall in love with someone who was basically just a cover story, but in two years Kristy was worried she might have. So it was that when Alfonso had whispered into the Immortal's ear, when the Immortal's grip had tightened on her thigh ever so slightly, love might have blinded her to the kind of signs that should have had her ready to protect her identity. You've got to pick your battles, little girl, she remembered Andrew blustering, If you want to be Princess Leia and not the poor Twi'lek slave girl eaten by the Rancor, you can't let Mr. Immortal know you aren't the really real Buffy.
And then the Immortal was standing, asking her to introduce a total stranger, and she had been too busy enjoying his touch and the status the "relationship" gave her in Rome's human and non-human social circles to have found a way to prevent it. Worst, the woman was grinning at her. A vampire no less, Kristy hissed inside, a damn Vampire Slayer outed because nobody briefed me on all the stupid damn vampires that Buffy socialized with!
Now training and emotion were at odds. Every impulse inside her wanted to stay, beg the Immortal's forgiveness, tell him the whole thing wasn't her fault. But her training screamed from behind that fog that this was not her love or a social attachment. It was her job, it was her very dangerous job, and her cover had been blown, and she had to leave right now and tell Andrew to get the word out before the Immortal's people had a chance to expose the secret that Buffy Summers was not, in fact, retired and happily draping herself on the Immortal's arm.
But his eyes?her mind slipped. Without question, Kristy was seconds away from giving in to her feelings and going to the Immortal. But the trance was broken instantly when she saw one of his ubiquitous bodyguards shift his coat, exposing the butt of a semi-automatic pistol. Aware of herself again, Kristy leapt into action.
I'm glad I slipped off those shoes, Kristy had time to think. The slacks and halter were one thing in a fight, but she was never as good as Buffy herself was supposed to be in running and fighting in high heels. Still holding the Immortal's gaze, she snapped the bell of her wine glass off and fired the stem like a knife. It struck the bodyguard in the back of his hand as he was inching it for his gun. Leaping over the back of the couch, Kristy bolted toward the curtain entrance to the VIP lounge. Neither the Immortal nor Alfonso made a move to stop her, but she could already see other bodyguards closing in from the edges of the room. She desperately wished she could have stopped to stake that blasted blond vampire, but Andrew had probably told her to ?pick her battles' with exactly that in mind.
Almost home free, Kristy thought. She knew that if she could just make the street, she'd be clear. His Benevolence ? that's not his name! ? wouldn't make the kind of scene in his own club necessary to capture her out in the open. A bodyguard, clearly not human, stepped across the entrance with a velvet rope. More worried about appearances than capturing her, as Kristy had hoped. With an extra step, she slid into a perfect baseball slide under the rope. Springing back to her feet and quickly assessing that the guards had not left the VIP room, Kristy burst through the door and into the autumn Italian evening.
The two pairs of eyes staring back at him were not full of the sort of joy and exuberance Xander had counted on. Did Giles just throw up in his mouth? He wondered briefly. Willow's eyes were still as wide as he'd seen them when she had figured out what ?Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" had been about.
"Guys?" Xander prodded. "I know that the breathing and staring is the proudest, happiest stunned silence ever, but could you spare just a little verbiage?"
"Ah, yes, well," Giles began. Xander was not at all surprised when the former librarian began the ritual cleaning of his glasses. "Yes. You're asking Buffy to, well, to marry?" he trailed off.
Willow was still just sitting there, staring, but she did at least work her jaw a couple of times, Xander noticed.
"Xander, it's all just a bit much to catch up to, I'm afraid," Giles continued, putting his glasses back on, "I think I've become a bit confused on you and Buffy having become involved at all."
"I'm sure glad I'm not the only one being held down by that detail," Willow finally offered.
Xander let out a sigh. He moved around to the back of the easy chair facing his friends on the sofa across from him and gripped the chairback. As many times as he'd rehearsed this, it wasn't any easier when he did it for real.
"Buffy and I started? dating, I guess you could say, about ten months ago," Xander confessed, "we've just spent so much time together. We were all over the world setting up the Slayer teams, and honestly we were closer than we'd felt in years. After that thing with Amy?"
Willow's face lit up with realization and she pointed at Xander so suddenly he stopped talking. "I knew. I knew and I said, I said ?everyone close your eyes, someone's in love with Buffy, la la la!'"
"Yeah, Will, I was there. I kissed her. I honestly was terrified to kiss her, because I was terrified of believing that I could really still be in love with her."
Xander saw Giles chuckle softly and look aside with a slight smile, but he still couldn't read any real reaction from him yet. Giles had known Xander had been infatuated with his Slayer from all the way back in school, Xander knew. Xander had always hoped that was a big part of why the G-man had come down on him so hard compared to Buffy and Willow ? out of protectiveness.
"After a mission, we had a moment. I don't know what it was. Just too much time in each other's heads and working side by side. Not just fighting or patrolling, but planning, and making tough decisions for so many people. She tried to tell me something, I tried to tell her, and it almost fell apart completely. But then I went back and kissed her." Xander couldn't help but smile when he told that part. Zombie terrorists, the Master's lair, nope. That was the bravest thing I've ever done.
Willow's face went through a cycle of concern, and relief, and confusion, and disappointment before appearing to settle on happiness. That was the smile Xander had known would tell him this was going to work when he'd put out the fact emergency meeting.
"We have been careful around the castle. PDA at a minimum, dates off the grounds only when there was a legitimate official purpose we could claim. But it's time to do this for real. You're my family. You're her family. So I had to come to you first."
"Xander? I won't lie to you and say I don't have concerns," Giles began, "You and Buffy have done an excellent job running this operation, better than any of us could have dreamed, and I'd be loathe to see it endangered now by a relationship between you, let alone a marriage."
"Giles, you know me. I haven't been able to do this work for a decade now without superpowers, without supersmarts, by thinking of it as a mission. This has always been about you guys for me."
Willow got up jumped forward to hug Xander at this. From what Xander could tell, she had heard enough to just be happy for her two best friends. "Xan," she whispered, "I think this has always been about her, for you."
Xander drew back slightly to meet her eyes, but they weren't upset at all. In fact, Willow was tearing up. She kissed him on the cheek and he pulled her back in to a tight embrace.
"Will, I love you so much. I'm scared out of my wits. Thank you."
If Giles heard any of this whispered exchange, he didn't let on.
"Xander, I know you mean well, and I have no doubt your feelings for Buffy are utterly sincere, but if you've brought me here to give you some sort of paternal blessing, I? I'm afraid I can't give it."
Xander was so suddenly, utterly wounded by this announcement that he wasn't sure he'd heard it or imagined it. A glance to Willow's similar stunned expression confirmed that it had been no hallucination. Xander suddenly felt very young again, he was just seventeen and Giles was telling him to ?get out of his sight' after his idiotic love spell.
"Giles, how can you say that? What the heck is so wrong about it?" Willow was coming to his defense, Xander realized, even as he slowly took enough steps to allow him to drop into the chair he had been holding for support.
"Willow, I needn't explain it to you. He asked us both for our opinions, and this is mine. It's not the right time in any of your lives to make the kind of commitment that Xander is going to ask of Buffy. Not with the work they do, the people they command, and the enemies we all still face."
"If not now, when?" Willow challenged.
For a long moment, the question hung in the air unanswered. Giles had stood toward the door to the safehouse, obviously prepared to leave. Willow held Xander's shoulders supportively as she stared back across the room at her old mentor.
Mercifully, a shrill beep broke into the quiet room. Xander realized it was his forgotten Bluetooth headset. Buffy calls it my best weapon, Xander thought, trying to think of her to stave off the bitter hurt he felt from Giles' unexpected rejection. He pulled it out of his pocket and fixed it to his ear, pressing to answer.
As he listened to the urgent, rambling voice on the other end, he saw Giles and Willow relax, ready to ask him what was going on.
"Relax," Xander said to the panicked young man on the other end of the call, "just begin a sweep with all your available Slayers. No team smaller than three, and get ?em in their fighting pants. It's not time for the fall catalog's best. Check in with me in two hours. No, Giles and Willow are both here with me now. No, I'll call Buffy myself. Andrew, relax. You're Admiral Ackbar. Be stoic and insightful."
With a sigh, Xander closed the line. He had begun pacing as he talked to his counterpart in Rome. He was at least relieved that being ?on the job' like this restored almost all the confidence Giles had just shaken.
Turning back to his uncomfortable housemates, Xander answered the question in their eyes. "That was Andrew. You know Kristy, the Slayer that's been posing as Buffy in Italy? She's missing. She hasn't checked in for two days. He wants us to get to Rome right away."
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Season 8.03
Disclaimer: Joss owns all of these characters whose names you recognize, and I probably only barely own any of the ones I made up since I'm using them in his house.
Notes: This story is set about a year after Season 8's first story arc, "The Long Way Home", and is therefore about 2.5 years since "Chosen". No open canon-breaking, but the story assumes (without details) that whatever caused Dawn's problems at the start of Season 8 has been resolved.
Prologue
Rupert Giles parked his rented car on the rain-soaked street. No matter how innocent this slice of German countryside looked, he dare not park close enough to his destination to risk being seen. Casting a wary look in each direction, Giles discreetly slipped off the sidewalk between two small shops in the town square and found the path he was looking for. He pulled his overcoat tighter to ward off the rain and cold, abandoning any idea of an umbrella so he could have a better chance to spot anyone following him.
Coming out of the alley onto the next street over, Giles turned to his left and walked briskly out of the small town to the first residential cottage on the block. With one last look over his shoulder, and a word of silent thanks to the unreasonable riches of the Council he'd inherited by default, he placed his eye up to the hidden retina scanner in the doorway and slipped inside.
"Oh, at last," he sighed with relief, taking his overcoat off and hanging it by the door of the Slayer safehouse. Tugging his sweater back down, and taking a deep breath, he turned back to the people waiting for him in the cottage's fire-lit living room. "I came as quickly as I could without being spotted."
Already seated, he saw, Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg were quietly sipping on tea. Every time he saw them, he was at first struck by their maturity. They'd been only 16 when he'd met them, and, along with Buffy, had become surrogate children. Now they were all adults, and all powerful in their way, and the two sharing the room with him looked patient and pleased to see him. He could see on the coffee table a cup of tea was already brewing for him.
"I could tell you were coming, so I thought we'd go ahead and have tea on for you," Willow said by way of explanation. She particularly had come so far from the babbling young girl she'd been. It's as if the more she'd grown as a magical woman, the less she felt she had to explain or justify in speech.
"I remember you explaining the whole ?tea is soothing' thing to me, and I knew you'd be showing up pretty anxious," Xander added. The young man was dressed much like Giles himself, except for the patch that marked his missing eye. His growth had been even more noticeable than Willow's or Buffy's in recent years. He had become a de facto general and commandant to the world wide army of Slayers they'd created, center of their communications and tactical network. In this role he had defied even the most optimistic opinion of his potential that Giles had held for him as a boy.
It was because of the new man he saw in Xander that Giles had come running in response to his call.
"Xander, Willow, I'm glad you both made it safely. Whatever the crisis is, I'm sure we'll be able to overcome it."
Willow nodded gratefully and turned her gaze to Xander. Giles did the same. It was, after all, his meeting. Xander, however, didn't seem nearly as concerned. In fact, he finally broke into a smile.
"Guys, I'm sorry if you got too worried. I just needed to make sure I could get you both here at the same time," Xander began apologetically, "with you in St. Petersburg, Giles, and Willow ?" he looked at her with a helpless gesture, a reminder to Giles of how hard it was to account for Willow's whereabouts at any given time. Giles saw him start and stop from continuing again and was finally so confused he couldn't wait for the young man to get it out.
"Xander, you said Buffy was in trouble..." Giles began, cautiously.
"Well, I suppose that was true, depending on your point of view," Xander cut in. He made pausing gestures in the air, like he was trying to grasp the right way to begin out of the air.
"Xan, if she's in trouble, we're here to help. You don't have to deal with this alone. Just say ?Avengers assemble' and it's yours," Willow encouraged. Giles saw Xander shaking his head now, as if embarrassed.
"Man, I didn't realize this would be so awkward. Look, guys, the reason I called, and the reason I needed you both here, is that there is something you need to know about what's going on at the castle," he tried again.
Giles, feeling exasperated now, just gestured with open-handed impatience. Willow stared pensively over to Xander from her seat.
"I had this whole thing planned in my head, and that's worthless ? it rolled right out of my eyehole." This was an expression Giles knew Xander meant for forgetfulness, but it never failed to disgust him.
"Xander, stop babbling and tell us what's going on," Giles commanded, keeping his voice just in check of anger, "You can't just call ?"
"I'm going to ask Buffy to marry me," Xander broke in, letting the sentence out like a long, slow breath. Willow's eyes went wide in surprise, and Giles felt his words catch in his throat. He mentally stumbled for words a few times and failed. His train of thought lost completely, he finally walked over to the sofa next to Willow on wooden legs. Speechless, he flopped onto the couch cushions and reached for his tea.
"I'm asking Buffy to marry me," Xander repeated, more confidently this time, "and I want to make sure that I have both of your blessings before I do."
Chapter 1
A wise beyond her years Italian bartender had once described the life of American girls in Rome to a couple of visitors very succinctly: "Many blond American coeducationals. Spring break? The girls, they go wild."
The blond American coeducational currently slipping through the crowd inside the Roman nightclub may not have heard those specific words, but she clearly expressed the sentiment: long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and dressed to kill in a black minidress and obscenely high heels. Like many others, she was looking for a good time at a popular club. But this one was different than the others for many reasons. Not the least of which was that she could care less about the men on the dance floor. She was only interested in the wrinkled, dour man standing in a small crowd next to an unassuming curtain entrance off the main club. Her interest was simple: he had the list.
The woman slid gracefully past some club-goers, and rudely through others, on her way to her goal. When she arrived, she took a moment to tease her hair a little. She sauntered up to the man with the list, ready to entice her way behind the curtain.
"Signorina, please do not even ask," The wrinkled man cut her off in an almost cartoonish Italian accent, "the list is full tonight, and even if it wasn't, he has no need of a woman of your particular, ah, gifts."
The blond woman was not deterred by the simpering tone of the bouncer. "He hasn't seen my gifts, buster, so don't try to tell me ?"
"He already has a blond. She is lovely beyond words, she is powerful, and, unlike you, she is invited."
"I don't care how powerful you think his little? little ?bint' is, but I'm powerful-er!" No matter how much time she had spent around British slang, it still sounded stupid when she tried to use it.
"I do not think so, lady vampire. The Immortal's ragazza is the Slayer amongst Slayers, the lady Buffy Summers," the demonic bouncer declared, bragging on behalf of his master. Daring just a bit more ego and vicarious pride, he pulled the curtain back from the Immortal's VIP lounge, allowing the woman to peek inside to see the Immortal and his prize reclining. He was prepared to watch this interloping vampire's face crumble in embarrassment for having bothered at all. What he was stunned to see was the woman's face light up in a knowing, delighted grin.
"You are the worst bouncer ever, then, because I happen to be Buffy Summers' arch-nemesisisis?" Harmony Kendall trailed off as she struggled with the word. Shaking her head, she continued: "That isn't Buffy Summers."
The bouncer winced in shame as he stepped into the Immortal's VIP lounge. If the vampire was telling the truth, the Immortal was going to be embarrassed beyond the telling, and angry. But it couldn't be true! This woman must be the Slayer, Buffy Summers. They had done locating spells, they had tested articles of her clothing while she and His Benevolence had been in flagrante ? all had confirmed beyond question that his new paramour was the legendary Slayer.
But if it wasn't?
If it wasn't, there is no question who is responsible, he knew. The Immortal may be taken in ? he'd never seen it, but, si, it could be done as such things were done. But he, Alfonso, was responsible for who did and did not receive an audience with his master. Whether that audience was in the club, in battle, or in his bed chamber, the Immortal had trusted him for 500 years to preserve his privacy and his pride.
Alfonso decided would not compound the possible error by sneaking around the situation for more tests. He would trust his master's judgment and mercy and bring the concern directly to his attention. For was not the Immortal called His Benevolence even by those that did not serve him? Still, it was daunting ? Alfonso found himself struggling to form any words or action to draw the Immortal's attention away from the young woman whose thigh he currently caressed in the dark and quiet ambience of his lounge.
"Alfonso, why are you troubled?" The Immortal's voice pierced through all of Alfonso's hesitation. The tone sounded the gentle and concerned, but after centuries, Alfonso felt the metal beneath it quiver as if struck. With a glance to see that the young woman who was supposed to be Buffy Summers was paying no attention, Alfonso leaned in to whisper his concern to His Benevolence. Surely that nickname would be deserved today.
"Master, there is a young woman, a vampire, who insisted upon an audience. I confess that in turning her away I erred in arrogance to show her a glimpse of you as you entertain here. When I did, she caused great alarm by insisting that la ragazza is not who she has claimed to be."
The Immortal's face was hard to see, at times, and that was a relief. Alfonso could see flashes of alarm and anger in his master's eyes before the normal imperturbable expression returned. He appeared as a human man of as many as 40 years, or as few as 20. Black hair that swept loosely back and down to his shoulder, Alfonso knew that he was concerned extraordinarily handsome in every age of history. That didn't change the fact that sometimes, you still couldn't quite get your eyes to grip the man's features.
"Alfonso, you don't mean to be so rude as to suggest that Miss Summers is something other than who I know her to be," the Immortal spoke with neither question nor threat, but just as casually as if he'd asked for a new bottle of wine to be opened.
"Master, I would never question your own judgment and I assure you I did all that is required to assure her identity. This vampire, however, claims to have been a classmate of Miss Summers before her own change, and challenged her identity without having even seen her straight on."
Alfonso took a deep breath as he watched the Immortal's face consider the idea. He was slow to anger at most times, but it was also not often that he was facing such a monumental public insult as to be deceived by a lover. A lover who had been favored with his company for more than two years, no less.
"Show her in, Alfonso. You did very well to bring this to me immediately," the Immortal declared. "Bring her in, but do not announce her. We shall let Miss Summers introduce us."
With a nod, Alfonso returned to the curtain and the list he'd left. He greatly admired his master's desire to deal directly with any embarrassment, no matter who might see. The vampire tart who'd ruined the evening was waiting for him, hands on her hips. Mustering what regality he could, Alfonso silently gestured for her to enter the lounge, falling in behind her as she briskly marched up to the Immortal.
Or, trying to march up to the Immortal. Alfonso, only a few steps behind, felt his pride of employment refresh as the vampire, this Harmony, came up short when the Immortal turned to look at her. The Immortal's gaze held a hypnotic sway which was part of what allowed him to maintain the civility and compliance of so many. This whorish intruder clearly had felt an urge to stand and just admire the Immortal, rather than intrude on him.
"Good evening, signorina," The Immortal offered, standing from his preferred seat and gesturing for Buffy ? it must be Buffy, Alfonso insisted ? to rise and join him as hostess to their new guest. The Immortal turned to his lover expectantly, "I'm given to understand that you are old friends. Please do me the pleasure of an introduction."
Alfonso knew the game was over when the Slayer's expression flickered ? any recovery she tried to make now was meaningless. More frustrating than his own professional embarrassment and his master's personal embarrassment was seeing, standing next to him, this Harmony's graceless expression turn into a satisfied grin.
Kristy had been trained for weeks in being Buffy Summers. She'd seen the fact that she became a Slayer as fulfillment of a lifelong feeling that she could do and be something more special than anyone could imagine. Spells had been cast, hair had been styled, mannerisms had been coached by her "Watcher" Andrew, and a mission had been given to her. She was the Secret Service of the supernatural. She would pretend, very publicly, to be Buffy Summers so that a world of dangerous people and demons would try to kill her instead.
It was insane to volunteer for, but it was definitely an envied position. And it wasn't without perks. She never thought she could fall in love with someone who was basically just a cover story, but in two years Kristy was worried she might have. So it was that when Alfonso had whispered into the Immortal's ear, when the Immortal's grip had tightened on her thigh ever so slightly, love might have blinded her to the kind of signs that should have had her ready to protect her identity. You've got to pick your battles, little girl, she remembered Andrew blustering, If you want to be Princess Leia and not the poor Twi'lek slave girl eaten by the Rancor, you can't let Mr. Immortal know you aren't the really real Buffy.
And then the Immortal was standing, asking her to introduce a total stranger, and she had been too busy enjoying his touch and the status the "relationship" gave her in Rome's human and non-human social circles to have found a way to prevent it. Worst, the woman was grinning at her. A vampire no less, Kristy hissed inside, a damn Vampire Slayer outed because nobody briefed me on all the stupid damn vampires that Buffy socialized with!
Now training and emotion were at odds. Every impulse inside her wanted to stay, beg the Immortal's forgiveness, tell him the whole thing wasn't her fault. But her training screamed from behind that fog that this was not her love or a social attachment. It was her job, it was her very dangerous job, and her cover had been blown, and she had to leave right now and tell Andrew to get the word out before the Immortal's people had a chance to expose the secret that Buffy Summers was not, in fact, retired and happily draping herself on the Immortal's arm.
But his eyes?her mind slipped. Without question, Kristy was seconds away from giving in to her feelings and going to the Immortal. But the trance was broken instantly when she saw one of his ubiquitous bodyguards shift his coat, exposing the butt of a semi-automatic pistol. Aware of herself again, Kristy leapt into action.
I'm glad I slipped off those shoes, Kristy had time to think. The slacks and halter were one thing in a fight, but she was never as good as Buffy herself was supposed to be in running and fighting in high heels. Still holding the Immortal's gaze, she snapped the bell of her wine glass off and fired the stem like a knife. It struck the bodyguard in the back of his hand as he was inching it for his gun. Leaping over the back of the couch, Kristy bolted toward the curtain entrance to the VIP lounge. Neither the Immortal nor Alfonso made a move to stop her, but she could already see other bodyguards closing in from the edges of the room. She desperately wished she could have stopped to stake that blasted blond vampire, but Andrew had probably told her to ?pick her battles' with exactly that in mind.
Almost home free, Kristy thought. She knew that if she could just make the street, she'd be clear. His Benevolence ? that's not his name! ? wouldn't make the kind of scene in his own club necessary to capture her out in the open. A bodyguard, clearly not human, stepped across the entrance with a velvet rope. More worried about appearances than capturing her, as Kristy had hoped. With an extra step, she slid into a perfect baseball slide under the rope. Springing back to her feet and quickly assessing that the guards had not left the VIP room, Kristy burst through the door and into the autumn Italian evening.
The two pairs of eyes staring back at him were not full of the sort of joy and exuberance Xander had counted on. Did Giles just throw up in his mouth? He wondered briefly. Willow's eyes were still as wide as he'd seen them when she had figured out what ?Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" had been about.
"Guys?" Xander prodded. "I know that the breathing and staring is the proudest, happiest stunned silence ever, but could you spare just a little verbiage?"
"Ah, yes, well," Giles began. Xander was not at all surprised when the former librarian began the ritual cleaning of his glasses. "Yes. You're asking Buffy to, well, to marry?" he trailed off.
Willow was still just sitting there, staring, but she did at least work her jaw a couple of times, Xander noticed.
"Xander, it's all just a bit much to catch up to, I'm afraid," Giles continued, putting his glasses back on, "I think I've become a bit confused on you and Buffy having become involved at all."
"I'm sure glad I'm not the only one being held down by that detail," Willow finally offered.
Xander let out a sigh. He moved around to the back of the easy chair facing his friends on the sofa across from him and gripped the chairback. As many times as he'd rehearsed this, it wasn't any easier when he did it for real.
"Buffy and I started? dating, I guess you could say, about ten months ago," Xander confessed, "we've just spent so much time together. We were all over the world setting up the Slayer teams, and honestly we were closer than we'd felt in years. After that thing with Amy?"
Willow's face lit up with realization and she pointed at Xander so suddenly he stopped talking. "I knew. I knew and I said, I said ?everyone close your eyes, someone's in love with Buffy, la la la!'"
"Yeah, Will, I was there. I kissed her. I honestly was terrified to kiss her, because I was terrified of believing that I could really still be in love with her."
Xander saw Giles chuckle softly and look aside with a slight smile, but he still couldn't read any real reaction from him yet. Giles had known Xander had been infatuated with his Slayer from all the way back in school, Xander knew. Xander had always hoped that was a big part of why the G-man had come down on him so hard compared to Buffy and Willow ? out of protectiveness.
"After a mission, we had a moment. I don't know what it was. Just too much time in each other's heads and working side by side. Not just fighting or patrolling, but planning, and making tough decisions for so many people. She tried to tell me something, I tried to tell her, and it almost fell apart completely. But then I went back and kissed her." Xander couldn't help but smile when he told that part. Zombie terrorists, the Master's lair, nope. That was the bravest thing I've ever done.
Willow's face went through a cycle of concern, and relief, and confusion, and disappointment before appearing to settle on happiness. That was the smile Xander had known would tell him this was going to work when he'd put out the fact emergency meeting.
"We have been careful around the castle. PDA at a minimum, dates off the grounds only when there was a legitimate official purpose we could claim. But it's time to do this for real. You're my family. You're her family. So I had to come to you first."
"Xander? I won't lie to you and say I don't have concerns," Giles began, "You and Buffy have done an excellent job running this operation, better than any of us could have dreamed, and I'd be loathe to see it endangered now by a relationship between you, let alone a marriage."
"Giles, you know me. I haven't been able to do this work for a decade now without superpowers, without supersmarts, by thinking of it as a mission. This has always been about you guys for me."
Willow got up jumped forward to hug Xander at this. From what Xander could tell, she had heard enough to just be happy for her two best friends. "Xan," she whispered, "I think this has always been about her, for you."
Xander drew back slightly to meet her eyes, but they weren't upset at all. In fact, Willow was tearing up. She kissed him on the cheek and he pulled her back in to a tight embrace.
"Will, I love you so much. I'm scared out of my wits. Thank you."
If Giles heard any of this whispered exchange, he didn't let on.
"Xander, I know you mean well, and I have no doubt your feelings for Buffy are utterly sincere, but if you've brought me here to give you some sort of paternal blessing, I? I'm afraid I can't give it."
Xander was so suddenly, utterly wounded by this announcement that he wasn't sure he'd heard it or imagined it. A glance to Willow's similar stunned expression confirmed that it had been no hallucination. Xander suddenly felt very young again, he was just seventeen and Giles was telling him to ?get out of his sight' after his idiotic love spell.
"Giles, how can you say that? What the heck is so wrong about it?" Willow was coming to his defense, Xander realized, even as he slowly took enough steps to allow him to drop into the chair he had been holding for support.
"Willow, I needn't explain it to you. He asked us both for our opinions, and this is mine. It's not the right time in any of your lives to make the kind of commitment that Xander is going to ask of Buffy. Not with the work they do, the people they command, and the enemies we all still face."
"If not now, when?" Willow challenged.
For a long moment, the question hung in the air unanswered. Giles had stood toward the door to the safehouse, obviously prepared to leave. Willow held Xander's shoulders supportively as she stared back across the room at her old mentor.
Mercifully, a shrill beep broke into the quiet room. Xander realized it was his forgotten Bluetooth headset. Buffy calls it my best weapon, Xander thought, trying to think of her to stave off the bitter hurt he felt from Giles' unexpected rejection. He pulled it out of his pocket and fixed it to his ear, pressing to answer.
As he listened to the urgent, rambling voice on the other end, he saw Giles and Willow relax, ready to ask him what was going on.
"Relax," Xander said to the panicked young man on the other end of the call, "just begin a sweep with all your available Slayers. No team smaller than three, and get ?em in their fighting pants. It's not time for the fall catalog's best. Check in with me in two hours. No, Giles and Willow are both here with me now. No, I'll call Buffy myself. Andrew, relax. You're Admiral Ackbar. Be stoic and insightful."
With a sigh, Xander closed the line. He had begun pacing as he talked to his counterpart in Rome. He was at least relieved that being ?on the job' like this restored almost all the confidence Giles had just shaken.
Turning back to his uncomfortable housemates, Xander answered the question in their eyes. "That was Andrew. You know Kristy, the Slayer that's been posing as Buffy in Italy? She's missing. She hasn't checked in for two days. He wants us to get to Rome right away."
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