And here's the second part. Same disclaimers as
before, Joss, Disney, yadda
yadda yadda.
<<>>
<<>>
For the tenth time in as many minutes, Buffy's
opponent charged her. And for
the tenth time, Buffy was able to throw off her
attacker, who landed
gracelessly on the floor in front of her. Buffy
puffed with relief, and
smiled serenely at her would-be assailant. "Okay,
Dawn, let's call it a
day."
Buffy offered a hand to Dawn, and was refused. "I
can get up myself, Buffy,"
Dawn complained as she hoisted herself off the
practice mat in the back room
of the Magic Box. "Man, I must have broken my
personal best record for
landing on my butt."
"And you'll still be a distant second behind my
record, sis," Buffy added as
she grabbed a small terry cloth and started to towel
her face. "My first
training session with Giles wasn't exactly a boost
to my ego."
"I don't get it," Dawn commented as she grabbed her
towel. "Here I am, all
sweaty and sticky, while you're not even winded."
"That's because you did all the work," Buffy
observed as she opened the
nearby mini-fridge and pulled out two Gatorades.
"That was a demonstration
of Aikido, or what Giles calls 'the art of passive
resistance'. Or as Xander
calls it, 'the art of creative ducking'. Basically I
let your momentum carry
you as I dodged your attacks."
"In other words, let them do the grunt work," Dawn
said, accepting the
Gatorade Buffy had offered her, "and they end up
looking like dorks."
"Exactly. Next week, we can start showing you some
moves, and hopefully in a
couple of months, you'll be able to handle yourself
around much larger
opponents."
"Sounds good," Dawn nodded. "Is this what you teach
your classes at the
community center?"
"That and basic self-defense," Buffy said plainly.
"I'm not teaching anyone
how to fight, just how to get out of a bad spot. In
your case, I may be a
little tougher, but that's because we both know
what's out there, and I don't
want you hurt. Okay?"
"Better than okay," Dawn agreed whole-heartedly.
"But I gotta get home and
hit the showers."
"You need a lift?"
"It's walking distance, Buffy," Dawn insisted. "I'm
good."
"Okay," Buffy said. "Oh, and Dawn," she turned to
her sister suddenly. "The
first rule of slaying is?"
"Don't die!" the two sisters shouted in unison. As
Buffy tossed on her blue
hoodie, they heard the front door chime jangle.
Anya, who had been
inventorying a new shipment of wicca books, poked
her head from the shelves
to greet potential customers.
"Now, did this wolf look anything like, uhâ?¦"
Willow started as she, Giles and
Xander entered the shop, but couldn't quite finish
her question.
Xander understood well enough. "Don't think it was
Oz, Willow. He was too
big for one thing, and he stood upright. Oz tended
to stoop in wolf mode, if
I remember right."
"I'm telling you, Xander," Giles tried explaining to
the young man, "what
attacked you last night was not a true werewolf."
"Maybe not a normal werewolf," Xander argued, "but
all I'm saying is that, if
it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and tries
to bamboozle Elmer Fudd
into shooting Bugs Bunny, I have to go with 'duck'
on this one."
"Werewolf?" Dawn asked, suddenly interested.
Xander looked at Dawn quizically, then pointed over
her shoulder. "There
wolf." He then pointed to his side, adding, "There
castle." Buffy, Willow
and Giles blinked at Xander, who looked at his
friends amazed. "I refuse to
accept that I'm the only person in this room who
ever saw 'Young
Frankenstein'."
Dawn smiled suddenly, calmly saying to Xander,
"That's 'Frahnk-en-steen'."
Xander grinned hugely. "I was going to make
espresso!" This got Dawn
laughing loudly, until she threw her arms into the
air, shouting gleefully,
"HE VAS MY BOYFRIEND!"
"Okay, Frau Blucher," Buffy mock-scolded her sister.
"Weren't you heading
home to hit the showers?"
"Later guys," Dawn chirped as she ducked out the
door. As the door chime
jingled at her departure, Buffy raised an eyebrow
toward her friends. "So, we
still talking about last night's run-in?"
Buffy took her regular chair at the main table, with
Xander, Willow and Anya
close at hand. It was time to brainstorm. "Okay
guys, we need ideas.
Anyone want to start?"
Giles ducked behind his private bookshelf, emerging
ten seconds later with a
large dusty tome. He brought the book to the table,
and cracked it open.
"If we're dealing with a werewolf, he is in
possession of some sort of
powerful magic, or other assistance. Some manner of
maintaining his lupine
form at will, at any time."
"Kinda like the Gem of Ammara?" Buffy asked. The
others remembered when
Spike got his hands on the Gem, using its power to
ward off the light of day.
"Maybe he's somehow learned to control the
transformation," Willow offered.
"When Oz was here last time, he said he learned how
to tame the wolf from a
Tibetan monk. Maybe this guy learned how to unleash
the wolf at will."
"Or," Xander mused softly, "we're dealing with some
kind of man-made
werewolf." The others looked at him, hoping he
would elaborate. "I mean
like some sort of mutation or augmentation process,
kinda like the
Initiative's super-soldiers programs."
"All of this speculation is well and good," Giles
answered as he scanned the
tome in his hands, "but without evidence, it doesn't
do us much good. I'll
start by going over my old lore about werewolves,
hopefully find some sort of
connection to our hirsute friend from last night."
Willow pulled her ever-present laptop computer out
of her gym bag and plugged
it into a nearby phone jack. "I'll go online and
see if there have been any
werewolf attacks in or around Sunnydale recently."
Xander made for the door, saying, "I'll be back in
ten with the donuts."
"And I'll man the cash-register," Anya said as
Xander left. When Giles shot
her a sardonic look, she added, "Well, someone has
to at least look like
we're making money here."
Giles smirked slightly as he observed Anya at the
cash register. "I would
advise extra caution," Giles said to Buffy as the
research party commenced.
"Until we know what we're dealing with, at any rate.
If our friend is immune
to the phases of the moon, he may also be immune to
silver blades and
bullets."
"And on that cheery note," Buffy quipped, as she
stood up from her seat, "I
have to head out. My self-defense classes drew more
students than the
community center originally thought, so I agreed to
give a Saturday class for
the next six weeks also."
"Good for you," Anya chirped from behind the cash
register. "More money for
you."
Buffy grinned at Xander's fiancée; listening to
Anya talk about money, she
started to wonder if she preferred it when she only
talked about sex.
"Later, all. If I see tall, dark and lupine
tonight, I'll be on the
defense." She waved a goodbye to her friends, and
headed out to the
community center.
<<>>
The sun was setting over Wetherly Park, and the
wiser Sunnydale citizens were
heading for their homes, before the local nightlife
arose. Those who were
still about at night had their reasons to remain out
in the darkness and
danger of a Sunnydale night.
He had his reasons.
He hated his current employer, and knew that she
hated him. However, he was
a professional merc, and her money spent just as
well as anyone's. When she
hired him to track and eliminate a woman named Buffy
Summers, also known as
the Slayer, he accepted the assignment without any
qualms. A job was a job.
He hid in shadows, blending with his surroundings
like the predatory mammal
with whom he shared his name. He sniffed and
listened, constantly seeking
his prey. He knew she would be here; his quarry was
predictable.
When he was hired to kill the Slayer, he started by
observing her in secret.
Given his physical appearance, spying was difficult,
but he was able to watch
her from a distance. Within a week, he was able to
ascertain her habits, her
routines; driving her sister to school, visiting a
local magic shop, then her
job at the Community Center, then home. He made his
first contact with his
prey last night, to test her, to get a feel for what
she was capable of as a
fighter. She was good; he gave her that. But he
was better.
He knew her strength, he knew her tendency to favor
her right side, and he
knew her habits. After dark, she would go on her
nightly patrols. She would
start with Whetherly Park, then move one of the
local cemeteries.
His incisors itched, extending in anticipation. The
sun was down, and his
quarry would be coming soon.
And if there was one thing that Wolf prided himself
on, it was the fact that
he never left a job unfinished.
<<>>
"Hey, Buffy," Willow's voice bubbled happily over
Buffy's cellular, "any
signs of that new werewolf yet?"
"None yet," Buffy answered. "All's quiet on the
Sunnydale front. How's
Dawn?"
"We just spent ten minutes negotiating for math
homework time. When I hang
up, I'm gonna check up on her."
Buffy chuckled briefly. "Remind her that her
continued self-defense classes
depend on her maintaining her grade point average."
"Will do, Slayer," Willow answered. "Take care of
yourself."
"I always do, Willow. Buffy out." Pocketing off
her cel-phone, Buffy found
herself smiling as her mind again wandered to
thoughts of her Wiccan best
friend. Her sparkling emerald eyes, her sweet
smile, the soft red hair that
practically begged for a hand to run through itâ?¦
She halted that line of thought quickly, and with no
small amount of effort.
Bad Buffy, bad, bad Buffy!
Bad, hopelessly in love with my best friend Buffy!
Buffy shook her head vigorously, forcing her
increasingly heated imaginings
out of her head. She was not going to stand between
Willow and Tara, no
matter what she felt for Willow. She had no
intentions of risking the best
thing that had ever happened to her, for a moment's
lust. Willow was her
friend, her companion, her partner in Slaying, her
moral compass. That was
enough.
It had to be.
A sudden snap of a twig behind her was all the
warning she had, but it was
enough. She spun on her left heel, her right leg
kicking forward, connecting
hard with the charging figure behind her. The beast
flew backward, landing
hard on his rump, but rolled with the impact and
rose quickly to his feet.
Buffy now saw her adversary more clearly. It was
the werewolf from last
night. He hissed his anger at Buffy, a mace
clutched menacingly in his right
hand. "Slayer," he snarled. "You still owe me a
dance from last night!"
Buffy took her preferred fighting stance; legs
apart, knees bent, arms loose
and raised at her sides. "I'll lead," she
announced.
Her attacker howled, gesturing with his mace,
beckoning Buffy forward.
"Bring it on, little girl."
Buffy said nothing as she circled her opponent. He
was large, strong and
angry; he had rage and speed on his side. She paced
around him, her eyes
level and icy as she read her opponent, her arms up
and in front of her,
ready to defend herself. She waited for him to make
the first move.
He obliged her, charging forward with a deafening
roar, his weapon raised
over his head. Despite his speed, Buffy was able to
evade his attack with
ease. He swung the mace wide and down swiftly,
ramming it into the sidewalk
where Buffy had stood. "Yoo hoo," Buffy cajoled in
a mocking tone. "Over
here, Shaggy!"
The wolf spun around, charging toward Buffy again.
This time, Buffy stood
her ground as the beast bared down on her. As the
mace hurtled toward her,
she dodged to her right and grabbed the wolf's arm,
dragging him off his
balance. As he started to fall forward, Buffy spun
around, pinned the wolf's
arm over her shoulder and bent forward, throwing him
over her shoulder and
onto the ground in front of her, hard.
Buffy stood over her fallen foe, watching for signs
of movement. The lupine
figure lay motionless, eyes closed, and breath
shallow and steady. Confident
that he was unconscious, Buffy pulled out her
cellular, and started to dial
Giles' number. She hoped he could help her prepare
a vacant crypt, or
garage, or somewhere to imprison the beast before he
awakened.
Turning away for the briefest of moments, she didn't
see him roll onto his
back, tuck his legs up to his chest, and suddenly
thrust his legs forward.
The impact of his heels against her chin sent her
reeling, unprepared for his
next maneuver. A clawed hand raked her cheek,
blinding her with lancing
pain. "I'd warn you to keep your guard up next
time, Slayer," the beast
growled, "but you've just run out of next times."
"Say that about yourself, Wolf!"
The voice boomed out of the night air, reverberating
around the two
combatants. Buffy glanced up, her vision still
red-misted with pain from the
cuts on her cheek. Even if her sight weren't
clouded by pain she wouldn't
have credited what she saw.
A dark shape dropped down on her attacker, bat-like
wings spread wide,
obscuring the moon overhead. The figure landed hard
on the wolf, grabbed his
arms, then tumbled forward, taking the wolf with
him. The monster then threw
the wolf against a nearby tree.
As the wolf scrambled to his feet, the monster
addressed him in a roar;
"You've lost this battle before it began, Wolf!
Buffy Summers and those
close to her are under my protection! Tell your
mistress that I will
consider any attack on them an attack on myself, and
respond accordingly!"
Wolf stood up on shaky legs, his yellow eyes
red-rimmed with hatred. "You
can only protect her at night, Goliath! And the one
you have pledged to
protect needs medical attention! Your choice; chase
me, or save her!" He
turned away and ran swiftly from the monster, in a
strange loping gait.
The monster then turned to Buffy, silently muttering
"No choice at all,
Wolf." Buffy blinked as the pain receded, and for
the first time was able to
see her rescuer clearly. He stood nearly seven feet
tall, with a muscular
frame covered in a leathery, dark lavender hide,
covered only by a leather
loincloth, cinched by a wide belt. His legs
resembled a dog's hindquarters,
and terminated in huge clawed feet. His wings
draped over his shoulders and
down his sides like a cloak, and a wide tail waived
behind him. Long black
hair framed a strong face, his eyes' yellow glow
fading to reveal sharp blue
irises.
He approached Buffy slowly, seeing the hesitance in
her face. Withdrawing a
pouch that hung from his belt, he said in the
softest tones he possessed, "Do
not fear, Buffy Summers. I am no enemy."
Buffy regarded the monster with cautious eyes. He
opened the pouch, and took
out a small container. "This is an antibiotic, for
those cuts on your face.
They don't look very deep, and the bleeding seems to
have stopped. Wolf's
claws are painful, but the cut doesn't look
infected." Opening the
container, he scooped a fingerful of the ointment,
and looked again at Buffy.
"Do you trust me?"
Buffy looked at the figure that stooped beside her
for a moment before
nodding once. As he applied the antibiotic to her
face, Buffy said, "Okay,
you're the first thing I've seen around the
Hellmouth with wings. Who, or
what, are you?"
"I am called Goliath."
Buffy appraised Goliath briefly, then allowed a
slight smile to escape her
face. "I can see why. So, what brings you to
Sunnydale, Home of the Big
Brewin' Evil?"
"I came to protect you," Goliath answered, as he
finished applying the
ointment. "And to warn you. A powerful enemy has
come here, one who seeks
the destruction of all humanity. What she seeks is
here, near the Hellmouth.
And she will come for you, soon."
"And you're here to help me?" Buffy asked. "Forgive
me, but I don't get a lot
of help from demons. Why do you want to help me?"
Goliath smirked slightly as he rose to his feet.
"Young lady," he spoke,
somewhat louder than before, "I am no demon, I am a
Gargoyle. And a
Gargoyle's nature is to protect." Aiding Buffy to
her feet, he continued;
"The antibiotic will allow your cuts to heal
quickly, without scarring. I
must leave soon, for I have much to do before the
sunrise." He pulled a
business card out of the pouch, and handed it
gravely to Buffy. "Please meet
me at this address tomorrow. I will explain
everything then." His wings
unfolded, spreading wide about him. He turned and
bounded away at a fast
running pace. Ten steps away, he leapt, allowing
his wings to catch the
breeze and carry him aloft.
Buffy watched the diminishing form of the soaring
Gargoyle, and scratched her
head. "You see something new everyday here,
dontcha?"
"Once, years ago, I saved the life of a wise old
priest.
Grateful, he made a gift to me of these few precious
words:
If you find yourself on a cliffside, trapped,
with a hungry tiger waiting above
and a hungry tiger waiting below,
and by chance you spy a single strawberry
growing from the cliffside...
pluck the strawberry...
and bite into it...
and taste it."
--Frank Miller
"Ronin"