Passing The Mantle
Parts 9 and 10
by Cathryn and Mary M.
Part 9
“I love your mom,” Willow said cheerfully. “Have I mentioned that lately? ‘Cause I love your mom.”
Buffy raised an affectionate eyebrow at Willow sudden gushing. Willow smiled sheepishly. “The brownie content of my blood is getting low,” she explained.
“Well, we can’t let *that* happen,” Buffy answered.
“We’d better get you to Giles’s, stat. Well, as soon as we drop our books at the dorm,” she amended.
“Excuse me!” a young voice called suddenly. “Excuse me!” A girl came jogging across the commons, headed in their direction. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, with green eyes and red hair a few shades darker than Willow’s, pulled back into a sloppy braid. She wore a slightly oversized T-shirt and spandex shorts, an outfit clearly put together to allow for quick movement.
“Are you Buffy Summers?” she spoke with an unfamiliar accent, offering a hand to shake.
“Yes . . .” Buffy replied slowly, taking the girl’s hand.
“Wow!” The girl shook Buffy’s hand vigorously. “It’s so great to meet you!”
“Uhh . . .” Buffy exchanged a confused look with Willow. “. . . thanks.”
“Oh.” She let go of Buffy’s hand with a nervous giggle. “Sorry. I get ahead of myself a lot.”
“That’s okay.” Buffy discreetly flexed her hand to make sure that the little girl’s startlingly strong grip hadn’t broken any bones.
“Actually, I do need to talk to you about . . . stuff.” She glanced warily at Willow, then gave Buffy a significant, wide-eyed look. Buffy caught on immediately.
“Oh. Well, it’s cool. Willow knows all about *stuff*.”
Willow nodded quickly. “I am stuff-aware.”
“Oh! You’re Willow! Oh, wow! I should have known, Wesley said our hair was almost the same color, I’m Chloe by the way, Wesley’s my watcher,” she finished in a confusing rush.
“Watcher?” Buffy stared. “You’re a *Slayer*?” She wondered, frantically, if Faith had died, and felt a strong twinge of guilt. Chloe saw it cross her face and hastened to reassure her.
“Oh no, I mean yes, I am a slayer, but not a Slayer like you, I’m a *little* slayer.” She paused for breath. “See, there’re Slayers like you, with all those powers, and then there are little slayers like me, with just *one* power. I’m as strong as you. There are other girls who are as fast as you, or can hear like you, or have reflexes like yours. Stuff like that.”
“And Wesley’s your watcher?” Willow asked. “But he said the Council fired him.”
“They did,” Chloe explained. “We met after the wipe-out, at the Meeting Place.” The animation faded from her face, replaced by a deep sadness. “The assassins killed my first watcher, Michael. I don’t know why, he never did *anything* as bad as the Council.” She looked at Buffy seriously. “I miss him so much. All the girls at the Meeting Place miss their watchers, but I got lucky and found Wesley. He’s my *real* watcher. We were meant to be paired together, like you and Mr. Giles.”
“How do you know that?” Buffy asked curiously.
Chloe shrugged. “You can just tell. That’s why you and Wesley didn’t get along. Once you’ve met your real watcher, no other watcher can ever be good enough.” Chloe shook her head, as if physically shaking off the conversation.
“Anyway. I’m looking for Wesley. He said he was coming here and that I should stay and help the other girls because they’re all so confused without their watchers to tell them what to do, but they’re doing okay now, even Kiana and she was having the most trouble of all of them, and I miss Wesley a lot. Plus I was worried,” she confided in a confidential tone.
Buffy nodded in understanding, imagining herself and Giles in that situation. She would move heaven and earth to find him in that case, she was sure.
“He’s staying with Giles,” she told Chloe. “We were going there anyway. We just need to drop our books off at the dorm and we’ll all head out.”
Chloe grinned. “Cool.”
**********
“How have I been,” Ethan repeated Lucius’s question. “Do you have a few years?”
Wilson chuckled warmly.
“Well, this does cut down on introductions a bit,” Giles remarked pointedly, not entirely pleased over being the only one who didn’t know a visitor to his own house.
“Lucius Wilson,” the visitor replied. “It’s good to finally meet you, Mr. Giles.” Giles nodded, accepting and shaking the proffered left hand.
Ethan frowned. “Last time I saw you, you had two of those.”
Wilson glanced at what remained of his right arm. “I lost it that night,” he replied briefly. Ethan’s eyes darkened and he gave a short nod.
During the exchange, Wesley had sat on the couch, still and uncharacteristically silent. His eyes had taken in the fresh, reddened marks on Ethan’s face and neck, beginning to swell, and had also seen the anger on Giles’s face when they first entered. Arriving at the obvious conclusion, he shot Giles a black look, which was lost on all except Lucius Wilson. He immediately liked the boy even more - that one look had made his loyalty to Ethan clear to anyone who cared to see it.
Still silent, Wesley rose and headed into the kitchen, pulling a tea towelout of a cupboard handle and raiding the freezer for ice. He emerged a moment later with a makeshift ice pack, which he held out wordlessly to Ethan.
Ethan accepted the compress, his hand lingering on Wesley’s as their gazes met and held. They stood that way for a moment, looking into each other, until Ethan finally spoke: “Thank you, tiger,” he said quietly.
“You’re welcome,” Wesley murmured. Taking a step back, he slipped his hand from Ethan’s light hold and resumed his seat on the couch.
It was understood by both of them that they would talk in depth later;that and so much more had passed between them in that minute of silent communication.
Giles watched this exchange in amazement. He had never seen Ethan demonstrate such intensity toward anyone, for any reason. He tended to reserve it for his magick, or for the times when he had ingested more drugs than the human body should rightfully be able to handle. There was a spark of old jealousy - Ripper rearing his possessive head. Giles
ignored it.
Wilson, for his part, was pleased by the emotions that his experiencedeyes had seen strung between the two. It showed that Ethan had been able to move on after Sharna’s death, which was more than he himself had accomplished. And if it had to be with a man, well . . . from what he had heard, homosexuality was the least of Ethan’s sins.
There was an uncomfortable silence; Giles broke it by glancing at his watch and saying aimlessly, “Buffy and Willow should be here soon - their last class just ended.”
He glanced at Wilson and began to explain about the “Scoobies,” but Wilson shook his head.
“Mr. Wyndham-Price explained the situation to me. The more help in protecting the two of you, the better.”
Ethan, ice pack applied to his jaw, narrowly succeeded in swallowing asnide comment about how helpful he imagined the Slayer’s posse would actually be. No need to antagonize Rupert in front of Wilson and Wesley. Especially Wesley.
**********
Joyce hummed along to the radio as she drove. She knew better than to sing aloud, even alone, with her singing voice, but she deemed humming to be perfectly safe.
Her eyes flicked absently up to the rearview mirror to find that the gray Honda was still behind her. She hadn’t given it much thought -Sunnydale was a small town; many cars ended up taking the same route quite coincidentally - other than to be reminded of a game that she had Buffy had played when her daughter was young. When their car and another took several same turns, they would make up stories about why they were being followed, or why they were following another car.
This car, however, had stuck with her for nearly the whole drive, and she began to suspect that the driver was not playing.
As she turned onto Rupert’s street, still accompanied by her Honda-shaped shadow, she had a sudden flash of realization.
The assassins.
They were using her to track Rupert.
Shit.
Joyce ordered herself to stay calm. Don’t change driving patterns, don’t speed up, don’t do anything to let them know that she was on to them. And remember that it wasn’t necessarily the assassins - it could be that Achala man with his little statuette, hoping for a second chance at persuading her. Or it could be - and this was a soothing thought - an
entirely unrelated threat. Or it could be a coincidence.
Somehow, she didn’t think so.
She kept driving right past Rupert’s house, mind ticking frantically. She could go to the grocery store and make a few random purchases so it wouldn’t look suspicious, then go home and call Rupert. But, wait - if they knew where she lived, they could have bugged her phone while she was gone.
Dammit. Dammit!
Then an idea struck.
**********
Ethan took the chair closest to Wesley on the couch. Giles was just settling himself into another chair when the door opened and Buffy and Willow walked in, accompanied by a younger redhead. Giles spoke quickly.
“Buffy, Willow, this is Lucius Wilson. Mr. Wilson, this is Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenburg, and . . .” He stopped, blinking at the newcomer.
“Chloe.” Wesley’s voice was part surprise, part amusement, and part reproval. Chloe launched into a speech whose components, if not actual delivery, had clearly been thought out carefully.
“Hi, Wesley, I know you said to stay at the Meeting Place but you were gone for a long time without even sending word or calling or anything and *everybody* was worried so we took a vote and we all agreed that I should find you and everybody’s doing okay now even Kiana so I figured it would be safe.” She delivered this monstrosity without taking a breath, green eyes wide with persuasive innocence.
Wesley could only shake his head and tell her, “We’ll discuss this later, Chloe, I don’t wish to lecture you in front of the others.”
The warmth to his tone, however, suggested that the promised lecture would be far from harsh.
Further introductions were made. Chloe, upon determining who the owner of the house was, asked anxiously, “Do you have a bathroom? I really need one.”
“Yes, my house is fully equipped,” Giles replied dryly. Chloe giggled and followed his directions upstairs.
When she was out of hearing range, Buffy said, “Well. Isn’t she . . .” She trailed off, apparently searching for words.
“Flighty?” Wesley suggested with a little smile.
“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘fluffhead,’” was Buffy’s blunt
response.
“Buffy,” Giles reproved sharply, but Wesley held up a hand.
“It’s quite all right, Rupert. Chloe does give that impression, but I assure you that she is more than capable of being deadly serious when the occasion warrants it.”
Part 10
The driver in the car cursed. Trailing the Summers woman was supposed to be easy, she was supposed to lead him straight to the Slayer, Rupert Giles and the assassins. Instead the idiot woman was simply driving around aimlessly and now she was going shopping. What the hell did a woman need to buy groceries for at this time in the evening?
Lighting a cigarette, he watched the woman leave her car, then debated if he should follow her. He muttered, as he parked closer to her car. “What the hell, might as well follow her. Worse comes to worse, I’ll just tie the stupid bitch up and make her to tell me where her kid is.”
With a sigh, he opened the car door, dropped the cigarette and crushed it before he followed her into the grocery store. The dying embers of the ash glowed briefly for one last time before winking out.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Then we can’t wait to see her in action. Buffy’ll finally have someone who can hold her own when she spars,” Willow said as she made her way to the kitchen. “Giles? You have any milk? ‘Cause Buffy’s mom is supposed to be bringing brownies, and brownies just don’t taste as good if you don’t have milk.”
“Joyce is coming here?” Giles blinked, a pleasant feeling going through him. Something that always seemed to happen whenever he thought of her. “I thought she had work-“
“Like Mom would calmly sit by and leave us to fend off Watcher-killing assassins on our own,” Buffy snorted as she looked down at her Watcher incredulously. She settled on the armrest of Giles’s chair. “Yeah, right. That’ll work only if you tie her up.”
“Still into bondage, Ripper? How deviant of her!” Ethan said before he could check himself. He’d rather see any other look on Ripper’s face, than that look of silly infatuation.
Giles and Buffy glared at the sorcerer. Fists forming and eyes narrowing, Buffy took a step towards Ethan. “Just what are you-“
“Brat, I know that you have better manners than that,” Wilson admonished with a frown. “Apologize.”
Startled, Ethan looked at his old mentor and felt like he was fifteen again. His face red, he muttered an apology as he glared at a fist-ready Slayer and expectant Ripper. ”Sorry that your mother’s-“
“My mother is what?” Buffy said with a growl as she stepped up to him.
“That your mother is-“Ethan caught the sight of Wesley standing just behind Wilson, almost out of his line of sight. He quickly changed his next words from ‘sexual deviant’ to “-Ripper’s lover.”
“Nicely done, Ethan. It would have been better without the glare, but then even I know better than to make you do it all over again,” Wilson drawled calmly.
Ethan glared at the older man, then smiled ruefully at him. “At least for this decade, sir.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As he walked long the corridor to the Appointment Office, Lucius Wilson sighed as he read his papers. The information gathered on this new girl, Sharna, was sketchy at best. Did the girl even speak the Queen’s English?
“You take that back, Rayne!” shouted a voice from a classroom. “You take that back, you bloody little ass-wipe!”
“Like hell I will!” the mocking voice of Ethan Rayne shouted back. Lucius sighed. He had only seen the newest and youngest member of the Watcher’s Academy once, and from what he saw, the boy was pure trouble. “And if anyone’s the ass-wipe, it’s you! Everyone knows that the only way you got into the academy was because your ma let Travers his limp dick poke her.”
Lucius winced as he heard that. Rayne must be arguing with the Fletcher boy, whose mother was indeed a past lover of Travers.
“Hah! And my mother said that you’re a bastard, Ethan Rayne!” shouted the Fletcher boy. “Wouldn’t have even gotten in if it weren’t for your father’s blood! Son of a whores don’t get into-”
“My mother might have been a whore,” Ethan sneered, ”But at least she wasn’t a slut! Heard she went down on the whole Council to get you in!”
Lucius winced as he heard a howl of outrage and a series of crashes inside the room. He supposed that as an adult he should stop the argument. He ran into the room and saw the two boys rolling around each other as they tried to throw fists into the other’s face. “This is quite enough!”
“I said, THIS IS QUITE ENOUGH!” Lucius roared as he broke the two boys apart. With some force, he separated the two boys. He glared at the two of them. “I don’t care who started it, and I have heard quite enough to know what the two of you are arguing about. But that doesn’t matter, the two of you are in this academy now no matter how you got in. And the both of you will get along or else I shall make your lives very sorry. Is that understood?”
The boys both glared at the other as they muttered a “Yes, sir.”
Lucius nodded with satisfaction. “Now the both of you, apologize to each other for calling your mothers names-“
“Not to that little bastard!” Fletcher shouted furiously.
“Like hell I will!” Rayne shouted at the same time. “I don’t apologize!”
“You will both apologize,” Lucius said sternly as he shook the two boys so hard their teeth rattled. “Because you both are talking about circumstances that neither of you know about and condemning the other for the actions of your mothers. Apologize to each other, then stay away from each other. Rayne, you may go first.”
Lucius watched as young Rayne’s face twisted with consternation. The two of them held gazes, then Rayne looked at Fletcher and said to him, through gritted teeth, ”Sorry that your mother’s a slut.”
Fletcher snarled back at him. “Sorry that your mother’s a whore.”
“Rayne. Fletcher.” Lucius sighed. “That was not an appropriate apology.”
“That’s the only apology this ass-wipe or anyone else will be getting from me this decade,” Rayne said flatly. “You’ll have to beat the next one out from me.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Wilson drawled as he sat back heavily on the couch. He sighed as his weary bones rested. “Still as insolent as ever, brat.”
“Did you even expect me to change, sir?” Ethan said with a shrug. “Are you-“
Wilson waved off Ethan’s concern. “I’m fine, brat. Just a bit tired. Shall we get on with this business of the assassins?”
“Wow! That was sure a relief! I really needed a clean bathroom,” Chloe said as she jumped down the last few steps. She bounded towards Wesley. “You have no idea how dirty and smelly the bathrooms on a freighter are. I mean, men are such pigs and the smell-“
“That’s enough, Chloe,” Wesley said as moved a strand of hair from her forehead. “Did you-“
“Anything to eat? I’m starved,” Chloe continued as she looked at Wesley. “I didn’t have anything to eat, and I used up all my money just this morning and I could really use some food. Preferably something chocolate-“
“Buffy’s mom should be here any minute. Buffy called from the dorm and she was just about to leave when we were,” Willow smiled as she drank a sip of her milk. “She’s got brownies.”
“Oh, cool. I like brownies,” Chloe gushed as she sat at a stool located near the breakfast bar. “And you got milk, too.”
Frowning, Giles looked at his watch. “You girls got here over fifteen minutes ago. Where is she?”
“Can’t wait to see her again, Ripper?” Ethan drawled as he settled back. “I’m sure that she hasn’t run into any of Sunnydale’s exciting nightlife. If she knows about it.”
Ignoring him, Buffy rose to her feet. “You don’t think that the assassins will target Mom, do you? Wesley, I thought that you said the assassins will only go after those that interfere with their mission.”
“I did say that,” said Wesley as he ran his fingers through his hair. “As far as I know, that’s what they’ve done. They are very single minded in that. Your mother shouldn’t be a target-“
Alarmed, Willow ran to hold her friends back. She grabbed her Buffy’s hand. “Your mother’s going to be fine, Buffy.”
Nodding at Willow, Buffy glared at Wesley as she took a step towards him. “As far as you know? She shouldn’t be a target?“
Ethan stepped up to stand next to Wesley, hovering protectively. “If Wesley doesn’t think that you mother isn’t a target, then she isn’t one.”
“I didn’t exactly say that,” Wesley said slowly. He stood his ground even though the Slayer looked like she wanted to wring his neck. He looked at Giles, who was also looking at his neck. “The assassin will only go after those that interfere with their purpose, like Buffy did, or those that help their target.”
“So this means that Joyce could be a target?” Giles demanded as he glared at Wesley, his fists clenched. “That she’s in danger-“
“Hey! No picking on my Watcher!” Chloe said. She stood in front of Wesley, her fists ready to fly. “If he says she shouldn’t be a target, then she shouldn’t be!”
Wilson quickly stood up and got directly in the middle of the divided camps. “I don’t think that-“
“And I’m not going to gamble with my mother’s life on a shouldn’t be!” Buffy said as she glared at Wesley. Ethan was about to retort something when there was a sharp rap.
“What was that?” Willow said as she looked around her. The rap was heard again. It was coming from a window beside the fireplace. She saw a shadowy figure. “There’s someone at the window!”
Alarmed, everyone started to look for something that was a handy. Wesley ordered, “Stand back! It could be an assassin-“
Buffy shook her head as she approached the window cautiously, poking at a drape. “Not unless the assassins knock on windows-Mom!”
As Buffy quickly opened the windows wide to let her climb through, Giles ran forward to help her over the ledge. “Joyce! What are you doing at the window?”
“Trying to avoid being followed,” Joyce winced as Rupert practically pulled her into the apartment by her waist. She sighed as he gathered her into his arms, holding her tight as she trembled. “Darling, I can’t breathe-“
“Sorry,” Giles said as he let her go, but not completely. He frowned as he got a good look at her. “My God! Joyce, what-“
Joyce barely got her balance when Rupert let her go. Then her arms were suddenly filled with her daughter. Joyce winced again when Buffy applied pressure on several particularly sore spots on her body. “Ow. Buffy-“
“Sorry, Mom,” Buffy said sheepishly. Then she looked at her mother and demanded, “Mom! You look a mess! What happened?”
“I really don’t look that bad,” Joyce hesitated as she looked down at herself to get an idea of what she looked like. Her whole body ached. She had mud on her shoes, her skirt was messy, and her short sleeve knit top had several holes. She didn’t even want to know where her sweater was. “Really.”
“No, you don’t,” Ethan drawled. “A Chaos demon just looks better than you do.”
Ignoring him, Giles lifted Joyce’s face up. “Never mind that, what happened? You have cuts and bruises all on your face-“
“Oh, so that’s why it hurts,” Joyce said, trying to delay the questioning. “Did-“
“Mom, what happened?” Buffy demanded, her voice rising in panic. “There’s cuts all over you! You said something about avoiding being followed.”
“Well, yes. There was a car following me while on my way here,” Joyce said as looked at her daughter. “But it’s not any more, and I think that you, Rupert and Wesley and whoever else is involved in this should-“
“Joyce, what happened?” Rupert asked as he made her look at him. He held her tighter as tears filled her eyes.
“I think I killed him,” Joyce sobbed as she held on to Rupert. “He was following me so I led him to Maguire’s Grocery and had Tom distract him while I slashed tires and-and I think I killed him!”
“Because you slashed his tires?” Ethan asked confused.
Tears still running down her face, Joyce shook her head. “No, because when he-when he tried to open my car door, it exploded!”
Giles’s and Buffy’s eyes met over the sobbing form of her mother, then they both looked at pale Wesley. Buffy bit out, “They shouldn’t be after her, huh?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A figure emerged from the shadows as he watched the car and the body next to it burn. Another figure joined him as sirens were heard in the distance. “This was not a part of the Elders’ plan, brother. The man was to be taken alive for questioning and retribution.”
The man’s purple eyes glittered as he looked at his companion. “He was a Watcher, intending to harm the woman. You saw his intent through the fire as well as I did. He would have harmed the woman to find the Slayer.”
“The Elders are the ones to judge if he was to be Passed,” the companion insisted. “Not you, Adam Achala.”
“They also said that the Mother was not to be harmed unless she interferes with the mission,” Adam Achala answered back. “She has not interfered, yet she was threatened. Dhara will not look favorably upon us if we allow her to be harmed, brother. Did you follow her? Did she go to her lover’s house?”
“Yes,” the figure answered. “And from what could be seen, she was not alone with him. Her child was there, as well as several others.”
“Good,” Adam Achala said as he turned to his companion. “Let us go now and see if this Watcher for the Slayer should be Passed.”
TO BE CONTINUED
