Interlude

July 18th, 1998 Los Angeles

Sam Zabuto looked up in the warm, mild night and squinted; you can still see a few stars if you try really hard in Los Angeles, especially out here on the beach. A surprisingly gentle summer breeze caressed his face as he stood alone on the darkened pier; he watched as two vampires strode into view along the beach down by the waterline. They walked arm in arm and looked all the world like a pair of lovers enjoying a late night date, snuggling close to one another and rejoicing in one anothers company. For all I know they may be on a really hot date, Sam mused as he sipped his terrible 7-11 coffee and exhaled. Hed been in this fetid city over a month looking for the Slayer. Two days after he had come to town he had arrived at Merricks old haunt only to find it thoroughly-- and carefully-cleaned out. The rest of his trip had been accordingly pleasant. What was it that Sir Alec Guinness had once said? You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. Sam laughed; Alec hadnt been talking about L.A., but he might as well have been. Sam hated the city even more now that he had gotten to know her; L.A. lived down to his expectations, being filthy, polluted, rude, and noisy. Though a huge metroplex, the closeness of the city still suffocated Sam. Not like home, he thought as he sipped on the worst coffee on the west coast, grimaced, and watched the couple wander up the beach. It had taken him almost two weeks to even catch word of the Slayer, and another three days to realize she didnt work solo. This girl just doesnt go it alone, he thought. She had a helper with Merrick, she has friends in Sunnydale, and here as well. The closest he could come to describing her group would be a team. Buffy did not hunt the undead alone. At least two people abetted her; another woman, and a man, from what he could tell. Some reports spoke of five altogether. He remembered idly boasting to Rupert that he would send word of Buffy at once. But Buffy Summers had proven far craftier than Sam had imagined, and she remained more elusive than any Slayer hed ever even read about. Nine days ago he had spotted her for the first time, a lithe little figure bounding through a storefront window grappling with a vampire. Sam had happened on her by accident; hed picked up the trail of the van she seemed to work out of, but through traffic and some speedy driving on their part, hed lost them. Sam had parked his car at a convenient spot that offered a good view of both the main roads nearby and waited. With better coffee, too. A minute after he had parked, Buffy had broken through a wide storefront window and landed on the hood of his car. The vampire she had fought looked to be almost twice her size, sporting tattoos down both arms. She had rolled off the car and gotten to her feet, and then effortlessly she had grabbed the big vampire and tossed him five yards away against a building. As he had started to get up she had drawn a stake from her belt and tossed it at him, piercing his heart and killing him instantly. Buffy hadnt even checked on Sam; most likely she had not even known he was there. She had simply moved around the car and leapt back in through the broken window, out of his sight just as suddenly as she had burst into it. Rupert had been highly excited by his call that night. Yes, Buffy seemed fine; no, Sam hadnt seen any of her associates, but he assured Rupert she had some. And her technique had been flawless. Sam had to grudgingly admit that Buffy fought even more ruthlessly than Kendra
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had. Oh, and Rupert, he had finished, you were right. I couldnt bring this girl back to Sunnydale without an army to help me. Shes a tough one, all right. In the past nine days, as far as Sam could tell, Buffy and her friends had killed no less then twenty-three vampires. Sam had read of Slayers in the Middle Ages in Europe who had been surrounded by a small army of the undead and fought their way out; he had read of a Japanese Slayer named Asagiri who had killed six vampires in a single evening once; and he remembered Fosters Josephine, before she had fallen in love, breaking open a hidden lair and exposing it to sunlight, killing all within. But he had never read of the type of attacks that Buffy orchestrated. She lured vampires into traps and dispatched them, setting them up. She broke into their crypts in the middle of the day and killed them as they slept. Sam had even heard she had badly beaten a human associate of the vampires, leaving him alive, but in the hospital. Giles little girl has declared war, Sam realized. He wasnt sure what had driven her to it, but he knew if she continued she would attract more attention than even she could handle. He also knew a vampire king had come to Los Angeles, and that said king grew more and more agitated as an over-zealous Slayer and her posse of vampire hunters drastically reduced the number of his followers. It seemed only a matter of time before the agents of Taraka were called in, or the Abbin Cabal, or even more sinister freelancers. Most kings were not above using hirelings to do their job for them when the usual methods failed, and from all appearances, even the vampire-laid ambushes were miserable defeats. Buffy had walked directly into one the other night, drawn the vampires out into the open, and then her friends had doused them with holy water. Seven dead in a matter of minutes. Sam shook his head as the couple stopped; the girl seemed to be talking to the boy. They look young, he mused, but they could be a hundred years old. Or several hundred. He had always taught Kendra to approach her job passionlessly; to care, but not to get involved. Detachment kept one focused, it kept the Slayers mind on the job, and it took the sting out of the fact that she was killing an unliving being. Vampires could seem human enough if they wanted to, and he had moved Kendra past the point where she would make the mistake of having mercy for one. But he had to admit Buffys passion, her anger, and her unrelenting drive made formidable weapons. Maybe Giles is right, Sam wondered. Let the Slayer have a real life, friends, and do other things besides slaying. Give her something worth fighting for and see how staunchly she defends it. Such an approach might be an unorthodox way of preparing a Slayer; but it seemed to be working. He couldnt argue with Buffys success rate, even if he thought some of the risks she took felt a bit dangerous. He sipped on the coffee and blinked; Buffy appeared, out of nowhere, and in a second the two vampires lay in heaps of ash, blending in with the sand. He watched as Buffy grabbed the stake and headed his way, walking along the beach, her senses obviously alert. She spotted Sam and subtly altered her path to intersect with him. Apparently this Slayer doesnt like an audience. Sam balanced his coffee on the rail-- it wouldnt really be a crime if you fell, he told the cup-- and slid his hands in his pockets. He didnt want a confrontation with the Slayer. He didnt want to tell her who he was and what he was doing here. It would raise more questions than it would answer, and Buffy didnt seem the type, from surface impressions, who liked unanswered questions. From below the boardwalk five vampires issued, darting over the sand in bare feet toward Buffy. Sam started; he hadnt known the vampires were even there, lurking only feet from him, and he wasnt sure he liked the odds of five vampires against one Slayer. Buffy leapt gracefully and landed in front of them, spraying them with sand. Two of them reached for her; she grabbed one and slammed it into the second one, sending them both

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sprawling. A small female came after her, but Buffy kicked her solidly and knocked her over. The last two drew long combat knives and slashed at her; Buffy ducked between them and lashed out, breaking the knee of one of them. She rolled to her feet and faced the other; he stabbed at her again, but she grabbed the knife and yanked it from his grasp. Still holding his arm, she smashed it down across her knee, breaking his wrist. He clutched it as he sank to his knees, and Buffy slammed him in the face, breaking his nose. He toppled over. The first two men had recovered and came after her again, in tandem; she stabbed one in the stomach with the knife and swirled to meet the other. He slashed her with his fingernails, leaving four long scratches on her arm. Buffy didnt notice; she slugged him across the jaw, sending him stumbling backward, and she landed a kick to his groin. He fell also. The girl stood alone, looking at her fallen comrades. She turned and started to run, but Buffy leapt on her in a heartbeat, knocking her down into the sand. They landed not far from where Sam stood, and he could hear the Slayer as she battled her opponent. You people are sick, Buffy said, and she slammed the girl again. You sacrifice two of your own just to get at me? She hit the girl in the stomach, doubling her over. Youre pathetic. Youre worse than scum. The girl seemed dazed, but Buffy smacked her again; blood trickled from the vampires mouth, and she swayed for a moment before sinking back on the sand. Sam saw Buffy move away from the girl and head under the dock; she returned with a fallen support beam from the boardwalk, an old two-by-four discolored by the weather. I saw her pick up the stake from her other attack. Whats she doing? he wondered. You know what? Buffy said, coming back to the girl. I want you to tell your king that Im coming after him. I want you to tell him that the Slayer is going to stab him in his goddamn little black heart and put him out of his misery. You think you can remember that? The girl nodded, and Sam watched in surprise as Buffy raised the two by four and broke the girls left leg. The vampire screamed in pain, but Buffy ignored her as she raised the plank and snapped the other leg. The girl cried out again, but the Slayer merely glared down at her. You better start dragging yourself, Buffy snarled at her. Sunrise is in ninety minutes. And I really want him to get the message. Sam then looked on in horror as Buffy walked to the other fallen vampires and repeated the process, breaking all of their legs and leaving them writhing on the beach. She turned away from them and resumed her walk back toward the boardwalk, ignoring their cries for mercy and their pleas that she stake them and end it quickly. By the time she had ditched the two by four and climbed up on the dock, Sam Zabuto had vanished, making sure he stayed well hidden from the most vicious killer he had ever seen.

* *
July 20th, 1998 Los Angeles
Pike glanced around uncertainly; he had never liked Venice Beach. Always too busy and too crowded, the strip formed the perfect hunting ground for muggers and pickpockets, and-easy, he told himself. Its daylight. No vampire is gonna get you here. But vampires had friends,

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they had human agents, occasionally. Pike looked around again, trying to look comfortable but failing. The call had specifically stated not to bring the Slayer. That in itself made Shelley uneasy. Pike had decided not to inform Buffy about it, because she would insist it was a trap, and likewise insist on coming with him. I spot the Slayer, Im gone, the voice had told him. Better yet, come alone. Pike knew Shelley would never go for that. He had left Rachel in the dark because the younger woman had grown very close to Buffy, and he doubted he could trust her not to say anything. He smiled despite his anxiety. Buffys been really good for Rachel the past month and a half, he mused as he checked the boardwalk again. He saw a few bike cops pedal by, tanned legs pumping as they rode past, chatting with one another and watching the crowd as closely as he did. Pike wondered briefly what Shelley would look like in one of their uniforms; she certainly had the legs for it. Just admiring the view? someone asked him, and he turned to see a black man of medium height wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. He sipped from a bottle of water. Theres a lot to admire here, Pike answered noncommittally. There certainly is, the man said. He stuck out his hand. Im Sam Zabuto. Im a watcher. Pike shook his hand. Youre a watcher? he asked. Thats right, Sam said, sipping on the water. So please tell me you were smart enough not to bring Buffy with you. Pike glanced off to his left, and Sam adroitly followed his gaze. Shelley skimmed through some bathing suits on a sidewalk rack. Thats not Buffy, Sam said. Shes too tall. That girls with you though, isnt she? Pikes eyes narrowed. Howd you know? Sam smiled. I told you, Im a watcher. I watch things. Pike nodded. So why all the secrecy? Sam adjusted his sunglasses. Id rather not have a run in with the Slayer. Pike shook his head. If youre one of the good guys, like you say, then why not? Sam sipped some more water. Because Im here to see you, not her. Me? Pike asked. Sam nodded. You have something very dear to a friend of mine. Rupert Giles. Maybe youve heard of him? Hes also a watcher. Pike nodded. Yeah, Ive heard of him. Well, see, he started this book, Sam told Pike, and hed really like to read the second half, you know, finish the story. Im pretty sure this book is in your possession. Whats it called? Pike asked. Its the diary of Janice Covington, volume two. Sam lowered his sunglasses. Theyre having some trouble at the Hellmouth, and that book could really help them out. I think I can get my hands on it, Pike told him. Sam shrugged. Well, Id really like to take this book back to Giles. Hed like to see it. Its long overdue. And you know how librarians get with really overdue books. Yeah, Pike said. So, Sam asked. Tomorrow good for you? Same time, same place, same restrictions? Sounds good, Pike told him. You know, Sam said, its a funny thing with loaned-out items. The longer theyre away from the library, the worse shape they come back in. He met Pikes eyes. This is one valuable book. Id hate to think it was being damaged in any way.

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Im sure its fine, Pike replied coolly. Just be certain, Sam told him. Theres a lot riding on this book. Id hate to think anything was wrong with it. Like I said, its fine, Pike repeated. Sam smiled. Im sure it is. All the same, if you bring that volume tomorrow, Id really appreciate it. Well be here, Pike said, glancing at Shelley, who gazed over the top of the rack of bathing suits at him. He shook his head no almost imperceptibly. Good, Sam said. He turned to walk away, and stopped. I hope you enjoyed reading it, because once Giles gets his hands on it, I think hes going to want to keep it. That might not be Giles decision, Pike said. Sam shrugged again and took another sip of water. No offense, son, but if we dont get that book back to the right library pretty soon, there wont be anyone around left to read it. He waved to Pike. Have a nice day. Pike watched him wander off down the boardwalk. He still frowned as Shelley came over to him and took his hand.

* *
July 25th, 1998 Sunnydale
FROM THE JOURNAL OF RUPERT GILES: 25 July 1998 Today would have been Jennys thirty-first birthday. I cannot help but think about her sometimes, despite the other items I should be concentrating on. Not only because she would have been fascinated by all the going-on, but because her matter-of-fact approach to things would be a great asset given the state of things now. And, I miss her. I havent loved too often, or too well, I suppose, and Jenny certainly knew how to stir my heart. I cannot help but think what might have been, what we could have become together. Like Buffy, I have to hide my second vocation from the world. I see happy faces wandering down the street, or breezing into the library to check out a book, and I think to myself that these people wouldnt be smiling if they knew how close to the edge we sometimes come. How close we might even be right now. Jenny knew all that; she understood it. She was a part of it-- a far larger part than any of us at first suspected. I suppose I should have seen something, but I couldnt suspect Jenny of anything. I had rather a blind spot when it came to her. That gave me a great deal of trouble dealing with her when Angelus was turned to evil, but it all seems so long ago. Now I must admit Im sort of proud I

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cared enough for her that I didnt, or maybe couldnt, suspect her. I just hope that wherever she is, she forgives me for being angry with her. Life is far too short to stay that cross with someone you love, and who loves you back. Enough of might-have-beens for now. I must focus on what might become. It is hard to believe the summer is more than half over and Buffy has not returned to us. I received a rather disturbing report the other day from Sam Zabuto that told me that Buffy is becoming quite violent with the vampires. Sometimes that is the only language they understand, but from what Sam says, she seems to have crossed the line between doing her job and taking it to extremes. I am worried about her, I am worried about these friends she has taken up with, and I am worried about what she is thinking and what she is feeling. Is she consumed by anger, as Sam seems to think, or is there more going on in that head of hers? I cannot share this with anyone. Joyce would not understand, and she would only be made more nervous. All summer she has been asking me for updates on her daughter, and I have given her edited versions of Sams messages. Im not sure Joyce needs to know that Buffy has started a crusade against the vampires in Los Angeles-- she already has enough to worry about. Not only is her daughter missing, or at least away, but Joyce is dealing with someone who might be a vampire. I think. We have no direct proof that Raymond Stark is anything other than a very wealthy and very busy business man. It is true that neither he nor his charming niece ever show up before sunset, but that is the only single piece of admittedly circumstantial evidence we have. Joyce never seems to be able to maneuver them near a mirror, and I dont want to raise their suspicions by tipping our hands too soon. Besides, Stark and Melanie have been nothing but very hospitable to Joyce, and ever since their display opened last week, she has been doing a brisk business. There is still the nagging matter of the chakram, but I have never met Raymond face to face to question him about it. I am often on patrol with Xander, and though I have met Melanie twice, she claims to know nothing of its origin, only that it is very dear to her uncle. Melanie is not the type who would lie about that sort of thing, I dont think. She impresses me as very sincere; it is hard to even conceive that she could be a vampire, or even working with them. Shes really a very sweet woman. Joyce has asked Raymond about the chakram, hinting that she knew of Janice Covingtons unsuccessful expedition to recover it in 1946. His answer, in typical Raymond Stark fashion, was that his father had read of that expedition and mounted a successful one of his own. Joyce has never been able to draw him out on the subject again, despite my urging. She herself is not all convinced that he is a vampire, and after researching his background thoroughly, I am no longer either. Evasiveness may be personally vexing to me, but it is hardly proof one is a member of the undead. Since we have been unable to gather any more conclusive evidence, I must regard my suspicions as just that. It was actually Willow who dug up what little we know about Mr. Stark. She and Oz are able to work wonders on their computers, and they make a good research team. They are timely with all of my requests, and I admit that I have begun to rely on Willow and even count on her to augment my studies. Shes an exceptionally bright young woman, and I regret that she will be entering her

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senior year this fall and I will likely lose her to Stanford or Harvard or someplace like that. On her own research, though, Willow has been less than successful. She and Oz have presented me with a rather startling report that, effectively, all references to Zoroastrianism are being erased from modern culture. They have already been erased from the world wide web, and I cant find a single volume about Zoroaster or his teachings on file in any library that I can contact. I feel as if there is a conspiracy to simply remove the prophet and his followers from the memory of mankind altogether. I dont understand that at all, myself; I studied Zoroaster briefly in college, and while his dualistic philosophy of good and evil didnt appeal to me, I must admit I found it all rather harmless. Whoever is bent on erasing Zoroastrians-- unless they are bent on erasing themselves-- feels differently, I suppose. I must candidly admit that I am not of much use on this topic. Ethan studied them more closely than I did, but there is some knowledge that comes at too high a price. Id rather not have to rely on Ethan for information. I have likewise hidden reports of Buffys behavior from Willow because I am afraid that she will share this with Xander. Despite the fact that the two of them are each amorously engaged with others, they are still very close friends and they share rather personal feelings with one another. I know this because I witnessed an argument they had a few days ago. I didnt catch the gist of all of it, but I can see that Willow is not completely comfortable with how close Xander and Cordelia have become. Frankly, its none of my concern; so long as he continues to perform his duties as the surrogate Slayer, I am not unduly worried that he and Cordelia are, as Willow alleged, spending way too much time making kissy face. Cordelia makes him happy, and when he is happy, he can concentrate longer. Not much longer, but a little bit. For his part Xander has surprised me with his dedication to the training. He complains far less than I would have thought and is proving a quick study. Like all new trainees, he is eager, but he is learning fast. Not as fast as Buffy did, but that is to be expected. He also shows an astonishing ability to synthesize different techniques I have taught him. Begrudgingly I report that Xander Harris has an aptitude for slaying. But he still does not know how to handle the women in his life. Cordelia seems to be cross with him often (although Im sure some of the blame of that must be given to Cordelia herself) and Willow loses her patience with him at times. Xander still lacks the knack to really handle either one of them completely effectively. This is the main reason I have not told him about Buffy. I know from speaking to him that he carries a great deal of respect-- and likely more intense emotion-- for Buffy. If he were to learn that Buffy is beginning to teeter over the edge, I think nothing-- not even Cordelias charms-- would stop him from bolting to Los Angeles. The only other item worth mentioning here is the drastic reduction in vampire appearances in Sunnydale. Earlier in the summer I was almost sure that a new vampire king had moved into town, or that Spike was planning something. But we havent seen Spike or Druscilla since May, and that is too long for them to stay quiet. After Willows frightening encounter a month ago, none of us has seen any vampires at all. At times this makes it difficult to justify, even to me, the long

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hours that Xander and I put in. Willow seems to think that maybe word has gotten out in the vampire community that the Hellmouth is best left off limits; after all, Buffy has continually thwarted all of their plans here. But I find that a little too convenient an answer. I cannot help but think someone is up to something. I enjoy a lull in activity as much as the next watcher, but the fact that not a single vampire has revealed himself in almost five weeks had me a bit worried. I am on a certain level grateful for the break, but Im afraid that all of this is the gathering of some great breath, an indrawing of unholy resources that will be exhaled upon Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, and the world with blinding and destructive fury. Of course, Xander would tell me that I read too much. And just this once, he may be right.

* *
August 4th, 1998 Los Angeles
Pike tossed the empty gallon jug in the closet, closing the door hard and moving to the sink. He had a small cut on his hand, and he wanted to wash it out before it became infected. He slammed the faucet on and clenched his teeth as hot water washed into the scratch. Shelley stood in the back doorway. You want to talk about it? she asked quietly. Shell, he said, holding his hand under the water, what is there to talk about? Dark eyes looked at him almost pleadingly. Pike, look, I know it was a little bit harsh, but its sending a message. Shelley moved next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. You understand that. Shelley, he said, she staked the guys hand to a telephone pole. What the hell kind of message does that send? It says we mean business, Shelley said softly. It says, we own this city, you get the hell out. Pike switched off the water and looked at the cut. So you agree with this tactic? Shelley frowned. Not entirely, but I know what shes trying to do. So do I, Pike said. Shes trying to get us killed. Shelley put her hands on his shoulders, but Pike pulled away from her. Come on, Shelley, she could just stake these guys, game over, thats it. Thats what you do, thats what I do, thats what Rachel does. Buffy only does it when she feels like it. The rest of this stuff is done to piss off the vampires. Like they dont mind when we stake a bunch of them, Shelley shot back. Im sure they dont care for that either, Pike admitted. But this is rubbing their noses in it. This is asking for it. He pressed down on the cut, but the bleeding had stopped. Just stake them. Keep it quick, keep it clean. Theyre dead either way, Shelley said. Yeah, they are, Pike responded. But exposure to sunlight is deliberate torture. He looked at Shelley. I thought we were better than that.

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Shes doing what it takes to beat them, Shelley argued. Buffy is scaring them. Shes making them afraid to attack us. Pike shook his head. You do side with her on this. Shelley cocked her head. I thought we were all on the same side here. Pike frowned. Not as long as she keeps this up, were not. Shelley, I dont care if she kills fifteen vampires a night-- hell, Id love it-- but not like this. Not by the most painful way to kill them. You can say that after what they did to you? To Rachel? To me? You can have even a little bit of sympathy for them? Not sympathy for them, Pike said. Respect for us. Shelley put her hands on her hips but said nothing. If we say its okay to do whatever we want to them, were no better than they are, Shell. You wanna go there, be my guest. But Im not followin. He walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs. After a minute, Shelley followed him. Two minutes later, certain that the coast was clear, Rachel eased open the cellar door and tiptoed up to her room.

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