Fic: Graile Ch. 4

[Jack Xavier Warriner <connor_macbeth@xxxxxxxxx>]

Aiyo, 
Here's the complete Ch.4

Graile 4
By: MacBeth
Disclaimers: I own nothing but J, A, L, and G.


Manhattan, 1996	

The shadow atop Newlander's nightclub watched an
outlandishly dressed young man as he sauntered across
the street towards an alleyway. He watched as the man
held a conversation with a street bum, and stood
unmoving as they walked towards a hot dog vendor. "So
it begins..." he whispered to the wind before he
dropped silently down to follow them, grinning a half
grin. ?This is gonna be good..."

*	*	*

Sunnydale, California
9:35 p.m

Buffy and Jack walked along Revello Drive in a
companionable silence. Buffy finally couldn?t help
herself. ?So what really brings you here from The
City?? she asked mimicing parenthesis with her hands.
Jack smiled. ?There?s a steel sarcophagus buried in
a Mausoleum in one of the cemeteries here. I?m here to
find it, bring it back to New York, and sanctify the
remains within.? he said with nearly tangible
sincerity.
Buffy shook her head softly. ?You came here to get
a large metal object and carry it back to New York in
your convertable? Try again.?
?I wanted to see this hot little redhead you wrote
me about?? he said, nudging her with his elbow.
?Cute. but no.? she said holding up two fingers.
?Strike two.?
Jack sighed as they reached Buffy?s porch.
?Alright. I?m hunting a vampire. A specific vampire,
and there is no way in Hell that you?re going to
help.? he stated and leaned against the railing. 
Buffy stepped right up to Jack and looked him dead
in the eye. ?You helped me with Ord. You?ve served as
my sounding board and helped with some of my serious
inner battles.? she grabbed the lapels of his black
silk shirt and pulled him down close. ?I owe you. So
what makes you think you can stop me from helping??
She finished, daring him to argue.
The front door opened suddenly and Joyce
immediately glared at her daughter. Buffy practically
jumped back from Jack. ?Most teenagers usually make
out in private and out of sight of their parents. Not
on the front porch in full view of neighbors.? Joyce
stated before moving out of the doorway and gesturing
them both in. ?Please come in young man, so I can
embarass my daughter even more. Mr....??
Jack smiled his half grin. ?Jack. Jack Covington.
I?m an old friend of Buffy?s from Hemry. I was in town
to pick up an antique for my store in New York City.
So I figured I would stop and rehash old times.?
Buffy mouthed the word ?rehash? questioningly which
Jack ignored. Joyce perked up slightly. ?Your store?
you work in an antique store?? she moved the two into
the living room and sat in a chair as Jack settled on
the couch opposite the young Slayer.
?No, I own it. It?s called Time and Again. I travel
everywhere searching for antiques and relics to stock
my shelves. I?m here to find a painting by Moshain. I
heard a gallery here possessed it.? he answered her
casually.
Buffy yawned obnoxiously, dropped onto the couch
and stretched. Joyce?s eyes bugged slightly. ?My
gallery has that painting. I spoke on the phone with
someone over it. A very polite man by the name of
Lucas.?
Buffy?s eyebrows narrowed with a sudden thought
then shook her head and dismissed it. She looked up
into Jack?s eyes as he subtly nodded. ?That was
Lucius. He?s in charge of the paper work. I just find
the goodies and bring them back.? Buffy gave him the
?We need to talk? look and headed to the kitchen for a
coke. 
Over the next two hours, Joyce gave Jack a tour of
their house, with a scathing narration by Buffy during
the first half until her Mother glared and banished
her to the kitchen. Jack gave Joyce a great deal of
information on many pieces of her antique collection.
Eventually, they slipped back into the livingroom
after flipping through Joyce?s Record collection to
find Buffy in a very deep sleep on the sofa. ?I guess
we left her alone too long.? Joyce whispered to the
charming young man. ?Come on. we can talk in the
kitchen.? they moved quietly into the kitchen and
Joyce prepped a pot of tea on the stove. Jack leaned
against the counter and crossed his arms over his
chest. ?How long have you and Buffy been dating?? she
asked completely calmly.
Jack snapped his head to the left to look at Joyce
in bewilderment. ?I assure you Mrs. Summers. Buffy and
I are NOT intimate. If we were I would have stated so
earlier this evening.? he said with a sincere smile.
?I?m just someone B trusts.? they drank their tea in
companionable silence.
Joyce accepted his answer with a nod after a moment
of thought. ?I?m sorry. I?m a parent, I?m supposed to
be overprotective.? She looked up at the clock on the
wall. ?Is it that late already? I?m sorry if I?ve kept
you here later than you expected Jack.?
Jack grinned and set his tea mug in the sin after
washing it out. ?I enjoyed tonight. Buffy never told
me about your collection. It?s rather...esoteric.?
Joyce blushed slightly.
?Thank you. Um, do you have a place to stay in
town?? Joyce asked as they made their wya back to the
front door. 
?I?m staying at something that vaguely resembles a
motel by the interstate. It?s... habitable. Barely.?
he said with a shrug. ?I?ve lived in worse for
longer.?
Joyce started shaking her head halfway through his
answer. ?I know the place. You?re going to go back,
get your things, and camp out here. The couch is
comfier. Don?t bother arguing. I?m a Mom.?
Jack slumped his shoulders in defeat. ?There?s no
arguing with a protective Mother.?
?Words to live by.? Joyce grinned.

*	*	*

Willow sat cross legged on the floor with her back
against her bedroom door, a framed picture resting on
her knees. Her eyes were red from hours of crying, her
life had gone from comfortable anonymity, to dangerous
chaos. In such a short time Buffy had changed her
life. Opening her eyes to the real world, the defining
characteristics of life, and a deep fact about
herself. She?s in love.
?God?? she asked in a moment of emoptional
delirium. ?Why her?? she dropped her head and wiped
tears from her cheeks. ?What happened to Xander? I
wanted to be with him! Why do I suddenly NEED Buffy?
The one person I can?t have. She has angel.? She spoke
his name with a powerful acid in her tone. ?God Willow
get a hold of yourself.? she moaned to herself and
practiced a trick her cousin Phoebe taught her. She
placed her hand on her forehead, and slowly pulled it
down along her face, mentally dragging all the
negative emotion and pain down and into her fist. Her
knuckles cracking under the tension. 
The trick failed. Every dream she had was of the
Slayer. ?What is wrong with me?? she asked in a tiny
whisper. Willow pulled her knees tighter against her
chest as fresh tears started to well in her already
red eyes. She awoke thus eight hours later, her neck a
dull throbbing pain that added to the deep pain in her
temples. 

*	*	*

Jack lay relatively stretched out on Joyce?s couch,
after having ushered the nearly comatose Slayer
upstairs. Before leaving the young blonde?s room, he
unlatched the window and packed her slaying bag and
set it atop the windowsill. Standing in the doorway,
he looked towards the snoozing Slayer and grinned
before closing the door. Now, in black boxers and
barechested, he lay comfortable for the first time in
a long while. Jack smiled a calm smile and, in a short
moment, did something he rarely did outside of his
building in Manhattan, he relaxed.
Upstairs in her bed, Buffy was deep in Morpheus?
grasp a dream she couldn?t distinguish from reality.

The Horse?s panting was getting more and more
labored as it?s rider urged the mount onto greater
speeds. The rider looked back to see if the posse was
still on her trail. The rider tossed long red hair
back over a slender leather clad shoulder and reined
in the mount. Lifting the brim of her hat, The outlaw
wiped sweat from her brow with a bandanna and regained
her breath. ?Damned Marshal. I can add San Diego to my
list of ?Towns I Can?t Go Back Too.??
Spying a roadsign up ahead, she moved her mount
into a slow trot and looked back again to make sure
she wasn?t followed. The roadsign showed two
possibilities, Los Angeles to the south, and some
dirthole by the name of Sunnydale to the north. The
rider turned her mount North and hoped the bar served
decent whiskey. 
Shortly after noon, Andrea Ravencroft, or ?Red Rea?
as the Wanted Posters called her, rode into town. She
directed her horse to a hitch post in front of the bar
and slid out of the saddle with ease. Dropping her
hand casually to the Colt Peacemaker slung low on her
hip, she flicked the leather knot off the gun?s hammer
with her thumb and strode to the tavern?s door.

Annabelle Cooper wrung her soiled barrag into a
water bucket and wiped her brow with the back of her
hand. Feeling a burning sensation on the back of her
neck, she shook her head softly and looked through her
fallen honey bangs in the direction of the stairs. She
knew who?d she see and sighed heavily. Lilly was
leaning against the railing above twirling a lock of
her dark hair and openly staring at her bottom. Being
the most popular of the Taven?s ?Dancing Girls?,
Lillian Dufrane had free run of the bar, the clientel,
and of the other girls. Ever since her Uncle had died
and left her the deed to the Wild Horse Salloon, Lilly
had been trying to get into her bedchambers. ?You
don?t have a chance DuFrane.? Annie whispered to
herself. 
Peeking over the bartop, she spied the current
clientel. Ben Harris, the Gunsmith, that snake oil
salesman Vincent Pryce, and bizzarely enough the newly
elected Mayor of Sunnydale, Richard Wilkins. The Mayor
noticed her perusal of the room and motioned with
grateful eyes to his glass. Annabelle grinned and
nodded, reaching into the ice box for a frosty bottle
of sasparilla. Walking over to the Mayor?s table, she
ignored the lecherous grin of the whore upstairs.
?Afternoon Mayor.?She said as she popped the bottle
open and filled his glass. ?I?ve been meaning to ask
you, where in this hot, hot, region do you manage to
find ice?? she asked with a sincere grin.
Richard thought briefly of the Parcholt demon he
had conjured and bound to a small cave outside of town
whose sub zero temperatue turned the cave?s mineral
spring into a nearly endless supply of ice. ?Just a
deep cave up in the hills. It was a lucky find,
really.? He grinned and looked around the bar. ?I?m
very pleased with how you?ve turned this place around
Ms. Cooper. This was a very disreputable place.?
?Why thank you, Mr. Mayor.? she said as she made
her way back behind the bar. ?My Aunt said, before I
came out here, that I?d never find a more wretched
hive of scum and villainy.? She said, not noticing the
Mayor?s suddenly suspicious glance. ?I?d like to say
Mayor Wilkins, that My Aunt must have confused this
town with another. I love Sunnydale.? she finished
with a grin as she leaned against the bartop and
waited for a new client. 
The doors swung open and a slim figure in a riding
duster, leather chaps, and range hat strode in, with a
small feminine hand resting on a holstered and
apparently well loved Colt Peacemaker. The stranger
lifted the brim of her hat and cast her emerald eyes
over the room?s occupants before landing on the
bartending blonde. Just as their eyes met, everything
faded to darkness

Buffy?s eyes snapped open and she almost expected
to see the stranger in her vision instead of seeing
her ceiling. ?Great, now I?m dreaming in Western. Wait
a minute... a name. Cooper. Annabelle Cooper. oh man,
if this is real I?m never going to sleep again.?she
sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ?This is
just too fucking wierd.? Feeling a breeze, she looked
to the open window and her Slaying kit sitting before
it. ?Good idea, Thanks Jack.? she whispered to the
quiet house before throwing back the covers. 

Macbeth,
The Kamikazi Scotsman,
The Kilted Moogle


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