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Winter evenings in Sunnydale were cool and damp, with a hint of dew in the air. Rarely intemperate, the city benefitted from the misty sea breezes blowing in from the nearby coast. Accustomed to the extremes of England, Rupert Giles, transplanted Brit, remained disappointed in the moderate coolness of the west coast of the States. The only rainy respite seemed to come as a typical, cataclysmic, California-style disaster in the form of El Niño. With this one exception, his new residence qualified as virtually weatherless, a byproduct of proximity to the Hellmouth, he was certain. What else could describe the blandness of the climate? No snow, no chill winds, and abominable amounts of pure, blazing sun, sun, sun!
A window in the stuffy high school library was cracked, admitting the whispers of oncoming night. Hunched over a ragged, dog-eared book, he failed to appreciate the brilliant California twilight with gold, pink and purple striating the clouds bunched on the horizon. Those not residents of the golden state were largely unaware there were seasons: fire, flood, drought and earthquake. Balanced on the rim of the El Niño flood season, the air was crisp and clean, the skies breathtaking in beauty and color. Couched with his books, however, the librarian did not react when someone entered the room from the long-deserted school hallway.
"Grrrr," came a low snarl.
"Good evening, Buffy," Giles absently greeted. "I didn't expect you quite so early." Noting her raised eyebrows, he glanced at his watch. "Oh... uh... I didn't realize you were on time," he weakly corrected.
"Engrossed in another volume of 'Nasties 101,' you obviously lost all track of time." Buffy Summers tossed her backpack onto the table. She lifted the cover of his book, grimaced at the disintegrating material, then wiped her fingers on her jeans. "Guess no reprints this century for supernatural reference books."
"No, not really," he replied soberly, as he usually did, to her sarcastic jargon.
As this slayer's Watcher, he'd learned early on, at the peril of his sanity, to ignore what passed for her generation's wit. It never profited to inquire after meanings behind commentaries. If important enough, he asked for translations, otherwise, he allowed the young people their idiosyncracies. They were, after all, Americans.
"There are so few reputable recent works on werewolves."
Buffy laughed. "Implying... that there are recent works on werewolves? You've been holding out on me, Giles."
Again he ignored the fractiousness. "Nothing worth mentioning," he assured.
Curious, she dug through the small stack of books, pulling out one of the two volumes apparently printed later than the middle ages. "Matheson's Bibliography of the Occult," she read aloud. "By Professor Ian Matheson." Nodding with approval at the picture of a handsome man on the back cover, she opened the front. "Rupert, you were right all these years, Ian. Hey, did he really sign this?" She thumbed the book but looked at him. "Ooo, hobnobbing with tabloid types. I mean, as your slayer, I really should've been..."
"Buffy," he sighed, exasperated, "Ian is my cousin."
"Runs in the family, I guess," was her flip rejoinder. She turned back to the dust jacket, a slow smile lighting her face. "Wait a minute! Giles, why didn't you tell me you had a celebrity in your family! Doesn't he do that funky show about the supernatural and stuff!"
"Yes, he does, Buffy, thank you."
"Hey, it's a real kick..."
"Buffy, please!" Giles pleaded. "Could we focus on werewolves instead of charlatans..."
"Whoa, a little harsh for flesh and blood."
"You don't know Ian."
"Whatever you say." She smiled.
With a sigh he realized it was merely a postponement of the debate. One of the qualities of his slayer was persistence, which she applied equally to vampires, ghouls, demons and Watchers, not necessarily in that order.
Several dusty volumes later, Giles pushed the tomes away in frustration. Buffy came to her feet and paced.
"Researching werewolves sucks as much as researching vampires."
Removing his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You don't research anything. You are the Slayer. Research is for Watchers and -- others."
"Others, like Willow and Oz and Xander and Cordelia. Who shall all remain nameless because they'll be going out on dates tonight," she finished and plopped back down to her seat. "Really sucks!" She twirled her blond hair. "Not that Willow and Oz are out-to-dinner type dating, but at least they're a couple."
Fingering the ends of his glasses, he avoided her eyes. He assumed her comments were rhetorical, but nonetheless expressed his heartfelt belief. "The Slayer and Watcher, both betrayed by those we... held... in some affection. Not something I prepared for," he reviled bitterly, shoving the books aside. "Nothing either one of us could have prepared for, I dare say."
"It isn't your fault," she consoled.
He gave her a sad smile. "It's my duty to know, Buffy, but thank you."
"No one's to blame, it's done, Giles. Though we remained cursed -- dateless on a Friday night."
The usual teen flippancy did not jar him from his dejection. Staring blankly at the table he observed, "I hear making mistakes is how we learn about life. We've had quite our share of instruction lately."
"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," she agreed.
Their lives on the Hellmouth read like a bad Harlequin novel. She and a cursed vampire with a soul had fallen for each other. But now that Angel had reverted to his former, soulless vampire persona, Angelus, he was bent on destroying her and her friends.
Giles had gone the head-over-heels route with a computer teacher/gypsy. She wouldn't even touch the whole scene with her closest friends or her mom's last boyfriend! And mundanes thought average teenagers had complex social lives? Yeah, right.
The double doors swung open suddenly and a wavy-haired man and leather-clad woman with a wild, frizzy mane swept into the room.
"Good ol' Rupert. Barricading yourself in a high school library all afternoon is ridiculous, even for you!" He gestured around him. "Rusticating in this quaint little California suburb is so unlike you, old man."
Giles stood up, the book in his hand forgotten. Buffy positioned herself in front of her Watcher, instinctively assuming a defensive posture. Almost instantly she recognized the man, though she still kept a wary stance.
"You're Professor Matheson," she stated.
"Ah, fame has illuminated even this tiny town, Randi." He turned a charming smile to Buffy. "Ian Matheson." He held out his hand. "Rupert's dear cousin."
"Distant cousin!" Giles interjected glumly.
Ian appeared to ignore the remark and continued. "This is my producer, Randi Wallace. Randi, this is my cousin, Rupert."
The woman shook Buffy's hand, then turned to Giles, who glared at them.
"And you are?" Ian asked Buffy, oblivious to the slight.
"Buffy Summers."
"Ian, what are you doing here?" Giles didn't hide his annoyance.
"Is that any way to greet me after... how many years? Too many, yes, I know. Well, Randi and I are just dropping in for a visit..."
"What do you plan to exploit in Sunnydale?" Giles accused bluntly.
Disregarding the attitude, Ian addressed Buffy. "Forgive the family squabbling, Miss Summers. Rupert and I have never seen eye to eye, but no need to bring out the old skeletons, Ru."
"Let's talk current events, Ian," Giles prompted.
Randi Wallace Michaels took a seat on the table, resting her sneakered feet on a chair. "You've been burning the midnight oil," she observed and pushed around a few books. Smiling, she held up Matheson's latest work. "Researching something?"
"Oh, that," Buffy interjected quickly, grabbing the book. "I need to do an extra credit paper on... uh... on..."
"Werewolves?" Ian supplied. He picked up several of the other books. "Ah, Rupert, your collection rivals my own."
"Yes, and you used them to ridicule my father and his work. Now you use that knowledge to exploit the supernatural."
Matheson appeared unruffled. "Really, Ru, don't go prudish on me. Who was the one who borrowed the books from his father's library to begin with?"
Giles blushed. To the others, Ian explained, "For a time Rupert and I were allied. Not so much on the same side on the supernatural question, but bonded against the common foe of the establishment." Receiving blank looks from the girls, he self-consciously smiled.
"Ah, the rebellious sixties. I guess you had to be there to understand it all. Anyway, we're all here now in the cozy little village of Sunnydale to talk about werewolves," Ian stated.
He settled into a chair next to Randi and placed his feet up on the corner of the table. "So, who's going to start?"
Giles pushed the feet off the table, then tossed Matheson's book into Ian's lap. "Your first book was the most complete drivel imaginable, Ian. Attempting to discredit supernatural phenomenon that could not possibly be proven or disproved by humiliating those who do believe. Now you suddenly embrace -- no -- exploit -- the supernatural, making it nothing more than a freak-show oddity."
Randi leaned over to Buffy. "Who'd have thought being a librarian could be so stressful? Is he always like this?"
Buffy was quick to Giles defense. "No, never... I mean, he's maybe having a bad hair day, you know? It happens."
"Yeah, especially around here. How many high schools boast of a principal literally eaten, teachers and students under siege by vicious gangs never really identified or apprehended, and the most alarming murder and missing persons statistics in the known world."
"Well... maybe we've had a bad hair year," Buffy weakly admitted.
"You could say that," Randi laughed. She privately wondered why Mulder and Scully hadn't ventured into these parts yet.
"That's why How Strange is here. Well, one of the reasons," she finished.
"One?" Buffy asked nervously. "As in... you have more than one?"
Randi shrugged, "Oh sure. We're not even counting the reports we've had on vampires..."
"Vampires?" both Buffy and Giles squeaked.
"Extraterrestrials," Ian chimed in.
"Witches," Randi added.
"And," Matheson finished with a dramatic flourish, "Werewolves."
"Werewolves?" Giles and Buffy repeated apprehensively.
"You haven't met any lately, have you?" Randi questioned.
Buffy offered a weak smile. "I don't get out much. Maybe you could give me a description?"
"Well, they're usually..." Randi began, but Ian interrupted her with a laugh.
"Isn't she just a wonderful joker?" he proclaimed as he grabbed her arm and gave her a private glare.
"Oh, yeah... just kidding," she agreed lamely, clearing her throat and changing the subject. "Ian, if you two hate each other so much, maybe we should leave."
"Hate?" Ian began. "Randi, my dear, we don't hate each other."
"Certainly not," Giles corrected, astonished at the thought. "It's just... an... an ongoing... disagreement. We're actually quite... uh... fond of... each other..." He trailed off, embarrassed by his admisstion.
"Best of friends." Ian seemed almost ready to throw his arms around his cousin in an embrace to prove his point -- almost.
Sheepishly, Rupert studied his cousin. "With definite opinions on each other's work."
"But we won't let that get in the way of a good family reunion. All we lack is cousin Oliver. Haven't seen him in ages, either. I believe he's come over to California as well."
Giles shook his head. "Mixed up in some cloak and dagger computer nonsense from what I hear."
Voices in the hall preceded the double doors slamming open. Three teens stopped in their tracks at the scene, one in mid-sentence. "So, you two fun types, bet you're wondering what the Slayerettes are doing..."
Rupert wore a statue-like expression of acute discomfiture.
"We... uh... Raiderettes. I meant Raiderettes... we're interrupting, aren't we?" the tall, dark-haired young man stammered in consternation.
"No," Ian returned with a smile, aware of his cousin's uneasiness. "Not at all..."
"Yes, you are," Buffy contradicted and dashed to meet her friends. "Our club can't meet in the library today. Giles has family visiting."
The boy's eyes lit up as he assessed Randi. "Relatives. Wow!" He sauntered forward before Buffy could intervene. "Name's Xander," he introduced as he stood close to Randi and offered his hand. The others came forward at his cue, ignoring the silent objections of Buffy and Giles. "Welcome to Sunnydale. Hope you're here to stay a while."
Ian smoothly moved to stand between Randi and the teen, forcibly removing his girlfriend's hand from the hormone-controlled Xander. Giles, rather reluctantly, introduced the others.
"Ian... Randi... this is Willow, Cordelia and..."
"Ian! Ian Matheson!" Willow nearly squeaked as she got a good look at the man.
"Willow?" Xander regarded his friend quizzically. "A groupie in disguise. Down girl."
Willow ignored him and spent the next few moments offering a glowing critique of How Strange. Finally, Giles introduced the last newcomer, a red-haired boy named Oz.
As Ian turned to Randi to share the credit for the show, his blood ran cold. Randi's feral glare of aggression toward Oz was both frightening and abrupt. She actually growled! To his extreme dread, Oz growled back!
Ian jammed a heel onto his companion's foot and snapped her out of the trance-like snarl. Once halted, Oz's reaction faded to confusion, as if waking from a bad dream.
For a chill moment no one moved, no one seemed to breath. The first to recover, Ian shoved Randi behind his back and away from the group.
"Well, I hate to meet and run, but Randi and I have so much to do before tonight."
"Tonight?" Willow asked.
"Fine," Rupert agreed hurriedly, herding them toward the door. "I'm sure we'll see each other later."
"The books," Randi reminded her friend.
"What?"
"We wanted to borrow some reference books. I can come back ..."
"Yes, do that, Ian," Giles concurred. "Later is much better. I'll bring them to your hotel."
After they'd gone, Rupert leaned against the wall. Removing his glasses he rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.
"What just happened here, Giles?" Buffy asked from a few inches away.
He replaced the glasses and glanced at her, the dumbfounded others, then back to Buffy. His gaze finally rested on a mortified Oz, a scarlet blush flushing his face all the way to the roots of his carrot-top hair.
"At the risk of being obvious," Giles answered. "I believe Randi... I think she... well... growled at you!"
"And you growled back," Willow meekly supplied.
"Yeah, that was a definite growl," Xander confirmed. "So..." he sighed, shrugging his shoulders and assessing Oz with speculation. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" suggestively raising his eyebrows.
Concerned, Buffy looked at Giles' troubled expression. "I don't think so," she absently responded. "Giles, this is more than some older babe hitting on a high schooler?"
He cleared his throat. "Let's not jump to any conclusions yet, shall we?" Before anyone had a chance to reply he straightened and walked briskly to the table. "Now, we have things to do. Shall we get on with it?"
"Sure, whatever you say," Willow agreed quickly. She studied her boyfriend with concern. "If you're okay..."
"Fine," Oz countered with obvious doubt. "Let's just forget it."
Oz, Xander and Willow repaired to the back of the library, Xander still harassing the senior about the aggressive encounter with Randi.
Buffy turned to scrutinize Giles, who was hastily searching through the pile of books. "You know what's going on, don't you?"
He stopped and faced her. "I can't be sure, Buffy, but I suspect... I..." He laughed nervously. "I don't even want to say out loud what I suspect."
"Giles, out loud would be a good thing. This is giving me the wiggins."
"Buffy, please, let's proceed with the afternoon as planned. You go help the others. I need to do some research."
Buffy checked the clock. "Giles, moonrise is in a few hours."
"I haven't forgotten."
"Then tell me what you think is going on."
With a nod, Giles relented. "I think my cousin's girlfriend is a werewolf!"
Buffy opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, not sure what to say to his comment, then sighed. "Well, I guess the more the merrier," she grimaced.
Rushing outside the building, Ian pressed Randi up against their convertible.
"Just what do you think you were doing in there? You growled at that child!" was his scandalized rebuke. "I swear I saw hair form on your face!" He checked her cheeks and rubbed at the back of her hands to reassure himself that there was no danger of transformation. "What were you thinking? It's hours until moonrise!"
Unable to voice her fears, Randi just shook her head; anger, embarrassment and confusion apparent.
Ian took some deep breaths and pulled her into a hug. After a moment, he calmly asked again,"What happened?"
"I reacted," Randi explained simply. She confessed with bewilderment, "Oz is a werewolf!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Positive?"
"Yes!" Randi snapped. "Ian, what is your problem? I'm not wrong about this!"
"No, of course not," Matheson agreed without conviction, shaking his head. "Of course you would know..."
"So, what now?"
Leaning against the car next to Randi, he breathed a sigh. "All these years I thought Rupert and Uncle Edward were frauds. But Rupert knows a werewolf!"
Randi nearly snarled at him. "So do you!" she delivered with a punch to the arm.
"Yes, love, but this is different." He shook off the amazement. "Well, what shall we do now? Go back in there and lay all our cards on the table?"
The door to the school opened and Rupert rushed out, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw them.
"Oh, Ian." He stood close to his cousin, edging as far away as civily possible from Randi. "We need to talk."
"Yes, Ru, I think we do," Ian agreed pleasantly. "Your place or mine?"
Giles glanced around the high school grounds and nearby parking lot. He scanned a second time, then leaned close to Ian. "My place, would be more prudent. As we go in, take a peek at that blue van over there under the tree and tell me if you know the driver." Giles led them back towards the library.
"No, why?" Ian asked his cousin.
"His name is Caine. He hunts werewolves for their pelts," Giles told them in disgust.
Ian and Randi exchanged a concerned glance before they followed the librarian.
"So, who wants to start first?" Ian questioned with a faltering, humorless smile.
They sat around one of the long library tables -- stacks of books covered its surface. Willow, stayed at the far end, Oz just behind and farthest away from Randi, who sat next to Ian at the other end. Buffy and Xander were near Willow, with Giles strategically placed along the side somewhere in-between the two groups. It seemed more like a wary, territorial negotiation rather than an information exchange.
"Well, no one else seems to want to volunteer, so I guess I'll start," Randi offered with a shrug.
"Years ago, I went to London to study mythology under Ian. I was attacked by a werewolf on the moors," Randi explained to her rapt audience. "Ian and I found a ring we traced back to a gypsy tribe in the area. We found the werewolf who had attacked me, but he had died in a car crash. I was told the only way to break the curse of the werewolf had to do with breaking the original line."
"Gypsies again," Buffy commented so quietly that only Giles heard her.
"After that, my life as a debunker of the occult came to an end." Ian explained. We've encountered many different aspects of the supernatural over the past years in many different places."
"But it was only a few years ago," Randi continued, "that we encountered a werewolf in New Mexico who had the Wolf Claw Medallion."
"A... uh... Wolf Claw..." Giles muttered, moving his tea aside and shuffling through the books. "I remember something about that legend somewhere in here when I was, uh..." he glanced at Oz, "searching for something."
Ian and Randi nearly spilled their drinks as they hastily grabbed for some of the books.
"The medallion?"
"What about it?"
"It's just a legend." Giles paused. "The work did no more than mention it. Nothing useful, I assure you."
"Do you remember which volume it was in?"
Rupert sighed, running fingers through his hair. "I'm not sure. Absent-minded, I'm afraid. I'll keep looking. Please continue."
Ian took up the story again. "We traced it to Los Angeles in the fall of '96, but didn't find it. We did manage to secure the chain," Ian announced. "Worn as a necklace, the medallion and chain hold supernatural powers to cure the curse, or, in the hands of an unscrupulous person, it can create a werewolf. Luckily, the chain, by itself, can exert control over a werewolf."
"There's actually a cure?"
"With both parts together, we believe so," Ian assured. "That's why we're so desperate to find the medallion part."
"We came to Sunnydale hoping our L.A. werewolf and yours were one in the same."
"No way, man," Oz protested. "This is only my second full moon. I'm new to this."
Giles stared at his cousin thoughtfully for a moment. He removed his glasses and scrutinized them. "You have the chain?"
Randi and Ian glanced at each other. "Yes," Ian finally admitted.
"Then you could help Oz!" Willow blurted.
"You could put a leash on my were-ness?" Oz asked hopefully.
"No, no, no," Ian forestalled, holding up his hands. "Randi needs it."
"Why can't we find out where this medallion comes from. Maybe there's two -- enough for everybody," Buffy interrupted.
Randi and Ian exchanged troubled looks.
Xander, quiet until now, caught the by-play. "Did we not learn to share in kindergarten?"
"I think we should tell them," Randi offered.
"Hey!" Xander broke in. His eyes zeroed in on Randi. "What's the big deal about finding another medallion and chain?"
Grimacing, Randi responded warily. "It was made on another planet."
Dead silence followed the admission. The Sunnydale crowd obviously had a bit of trouble with the artifact's history. Annoyed, Randi pulled a silver chain from under her t-shirt. The necklace comprised of interlocked, singularly shaped, inscribed swirls. At the bottom was a dark, metallic bar with more hieroglyphic-like markings.
She explained what she and Ian knew. "To some extraterrestrial civilizations, the werewolf curse was really a virus, curable with medicine, or with a talisman such as the medallion and chain."
The others' faces remained skeptical. True to his nature, Giles strove for a sense of reason. "It is quite... quite fantastical," he stuttered.
Ian glared at them all, ending his icy gaze on his cousin. "You believe in vampires, werewolves, witches and demons but you draw the line at extraterrestrials?"
"Point taken," Rupert admitted, chagrined.
"Oz." Randi turned her attention to the young man. "I've got something that'll help stem your worst reactions to the moon. It's not a cure," she warned, "more like a sedative. Even with the chain and herbs, I still transform, but it's more controllable."
"Randi, please let us try the chain on Oz," Buffy appealed.
Protectively, Randi returned it around her neck. "I... can't. It helps me track the medallion."
Regretfully Oz reminded them of his novice status. He had no knowledge of the medallion, and his aunt and uncle never knew who bit his small nephew and turned the toddler into a werewolf. The only hope for both cursed people seemed to be to find the medallion.
Noting moonrise was nearly upon them, Oz, friends, and Randi went to the library's small storage basement that had been set up as a werewolf cage. Ian joined his cousin in perusing the ancient tomes for more information.
"Not all my books are here, Ian," Giles admitted reluctantly.
"What do you mean?"
"A few months ago one was stolen. We haven't been able to retrieve it."
"It might have the information we need," Ian stated excitedly.
Buffy, Xander and Randi returned, just in time to hear the last of the conversation between the two men.
With a quick glance at Giles for affirmation Buffy spoke up. "We can't just fetch it, Ian. It's in the lair of a nasty coven of vampires." She paused for effect. Receiving only raised eyebrows from the newcomers, she continued. "You don't seem shocked."
Randi shrugged. "We've met vampires before. What are they, your school board? The last ones we met were blood-sucking lawyers.
"We knew there was something going on here," Ian broke in. "You all do have the perfect climate for a How Strange special."
Not sure if it was a joke or not, Giles gave Ian a slight smile. "This is the Hellmouth."
Ian gasped. "Boca del Inferno! No! Really?" he exclaimed with delight. "I had no idea it really existed. Thought it only a legend."
With a furtive glance towards Randi, Giles cleared his throat.
"Well... um... we've... well, we've discovered that whatever seems to exist in legend, seems to exist at the Hellmouth." He straightened his glasses. "Which brings us back to the problem at hand. The book is not worth the risks to retrieve it from our undead friends."
"Well, of course none of you is going," Ian stated firmly. "Randi and I have more to gain than the risks. We'll chance it."
At this point an exasperated Buffy stepped forward. "We should tell them?"
Reluctantly Giles nodded.
"If anyone cruises into the undead club it'll be me."
Ian laughed, caught himself in the rude refute, and forced himself into civility. "My dear girl, we could never allow such a thing."
Almost too fast for the eye to catch, Buffy grabbed the mythology professor by the shirt collar, flipped him over her head to a semi-soft landing on the table, torso atop a pile of books. In the next second she vaulted over the table, whipped something out of her purse, and spun back around to hold the point of a wooden stake at his exposed throat.
"I'm the Slayer, Professor. I dust vampires for a living. Any questions?"
Ian carefully moved the stake off his Adam's Apple. "I think you've said it all," he croaked.
After cleaning up the mess created by Buffy's impromptu demonstration, everyone settled again at various positions around the table, with Ian keeping a more discrete distance from the touchy Slayer.
"Do you two know the legend of the Slayer?" Giles inquired.
"We've heard unconfirmed tales," Randi began.
"And have found a few mentions in our research," Ian continued.
"For every generation there is a slayer..."
"This is Giles' favorite part," Buffy piped in, smiling affectionately.
Giles graced his slayer with an annoyed glance, then continued. "...one girl in all the world, a Chosen One, born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to find them where they gather and to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. The slayer is always joined by the Watcher, whose destiny is to train and guide her towards her goals."
"You're her Watcher?" Ian asked, coming finally to a full understanding of what his cousin had been engaged in all those years... and why.
"Yes, as my father was before me," Giles confirmed.
Randi took the revelation in stride. After encountering a teenage werewolf, she felt the Hellmouth held little else to truly surprise her. Ian, however, was astounded that Slayers really existed and, more incredulously, cousin Rupert was a legendary Watcher. It would take some getting use to, he realized. Meanwhile, it was nearly moonrise and there was no time to dawdle over myths and reality.
"If those herbs and the chain can really control a werewolf, Randi and I can do that search thing," Buffy suggested.
Giles opened his mouth to protest but was beaten to it by his cousin.
"Not alone, I think," Ian protested.
"I must agree, Buffy." Giles stood to emphasize his point. "I can't possibly allow you to go into their stronghold alone."
"I wouldn't be alone, Giles. I'd have Fur Gal with me," she cheerily replied. "Better than pepper spray."
Randi grinned at her companion. "Who's going to argue with a Slayer and her pet wolf."
"The book's as good as gotten," Buffy announced confidently, pointing towards Randi. "We are women, hear her roar... or is that growl?"
Giles and Ian both still frowned in disapproval, but were outvoted by the determined women. As the California sun dipped behind the mountains and the room turned dusky with the advent of night, the Slayer and the werewolf slipped out of the building.
Windows now closed, overhead lights bathed the library in brightness as Ian paced. Giles hunched over a medieval manuscript painstakingly scripted by a 15th century monk in Shrewsbury. Centuries had faded the ink and paper, but enough of the account of a village werewolf survived to make a coherent story. The narrative's usefulness in this situation was problematical, but reading the tale was a better use of time than his cousin's incessant pacing.
A howl filtered though the door leading to the closed-off basement. The interruption caused him to lose his place and he strove to find the last line again. His eyes blurred on the paper as his mind wandered far away from the safety of the high school, and into the murky reaches of the night where a Slayer accompanied a werewolf into a vampire lair.
It had been a mistake to let Buffy go. That certain knowledge existed from the moment the plan was proposed. As was more common than not, he was overruled. Not only by the Slayer he was sworn to protect, but by all the others as well. While his role as Watcher was not one of a democratic nature, he rarely, if ever, won an argument over his formidable charge. Determined to find a cure for Oz -- and Randi - nothing could stand between Buffy and her mission. As the unrecognized voice of reason, Giles had countered that the spell book in the possession of the vampires may not help in finding the medallion or curing the were-virus. Completely ignoring the Watcher, the two intrepid women left on their dangerous task.
Giles wanted to go with them as far as the abandoned warehouse they suspected was used by the vampires. There were too many elements of risk tonight and he wanted to be out there on the front line to help. With vampires, a werewolf hunter on the loose, and a werewolf at her side, Buffy would have her hands full. The Slayer, however, felt his talents would be better served distracting Caine while she and Randi could leave unnoticed. Fulfilling his duty, Giles had cornered Caine in the van still parked nearby. Returning from the hotel with herbs for Oz, and as an added deception, Ian joined Rupert, ostensibly to interview Caine for How Strange. He also wanted to get a peek at the werewolf hunter's collection of trophies. Caine refused, finally driving away. Accomplishing the opposite of what they wanted, the cousins returned to the library to await their friends.
Another low howl. Ian paced to the door, then back, commenting on the effectiveness of the treatment, comparing Oz and Randi as differing strains of werewolves. The mumbling destroyed any tendril of concentration left to the librarian, and Giles shoved the manuscript away.
"Ian, please sit down. Pacing won't help."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've tried it countless times... it doesn't."
Matheson slipped into a chair and studied his relative. "How can you sit back and send Buffy out into the danger."
With a grimace, he admitted, "I try to accompany her when possible, but she finds me more of a distraction than any real help. So, I man the bastions so to speak," he gestured in an irritated wave around the room. "When it comes to practical assistance, I am of limited value." He pushed the manuscript farther away. "There are too many times when research is just not enough." After a moment of silence he felt his cousin's eyes upon him and glanced at the professor. "What?"
Ian smiled. "I never would have guessed. But your Slayer could have no finer Watcher in all the world."
Giles felt himself blush at the accolade. Praise was never something found in abundance in the Giles home. The boys were expected to do their duties, attend the right schools, follow family traditions. As first born, Rupert trod the strait and narrow path until his rebellious years at Oxford. His mishandling of the powers of the occult cost several lives. He would never forget, or forgive, his reprehensible descent to the darker forces of evil. Failure was not acceptable, and he would do anything to ensure he did not fail in this most important mission as a Watcher. The lives of many, most of all Buffy, depended on his talents and tenacity and he would give up his own life rather than fail her.
Noting a steaming cup of tea in front of him, Rupert was startled to realize he had lost track of time.
"It's not crow, Ru, but I hope you accept it, along with my sincere apology," Ian said, handing the cup and saucer to his friend.
"What do you mean?"
"All those years at Oxford, and afterward, I dedicated my life to discrediting everything you and your father were."
"It was nothing personal, we knew that," Giles assured.
"No, I never meant it to be, but I know it upset you, and Uncle Edward."
The remembrance brought a slight smile. "Father was pretty inflexible. When you published, then got your chair at Oxford -- well, he had fits, to say the least."
"I know. He wrote me several scathing letters."
"Typical," Rupert laughed. "He desperately wanted to set you straight, you know."
Matheson patted his cousin's shoulder. "Well, his son has. You have my deepest apologies, Ru."
"And I regret all the attacks I've leveled on you about your exploitative books and your program. They're all to cover your plight with Randi?"
Ian shrugged. "One does what one must."
"Yes, well, I'm glad we've straightened it all out, Ian."
Another howl echoed through the old walls.
"It never gets any easier." Rupert stared out the window into the moonlit night and came to a quick decision grabbing his jacket and his crossbow he looked over to Ian. "Shall we?" Briskly they were in motion. Giles went back to the arms storage area for wooden stakes. Meeting his cousin at the door, Giles handed him two. Ian followed his cousin out the library doors.
Willow sat quietly and listened as Oz let out another agonizing howl of frustration. Giles, Buffy and the Slayerettes had constructed a strong cage for their friend. He was also wearing chains and manacles. But it still hurt for Willow to see Oz... sweet Oz, like this. She knew that it was the only way to keep him safe, but it was still so hard.
Since learning she was the Slayer, Buffy Summers had also learned new definitions and depths of nearly every possible human emotion. Acceptance of her role as the Chosen One still seemed an impossible achievement, but with time came an element of affirmation and understanding. Tonight she reached yet another new level... one of anxious empathy. Stalking vampires would always hold elements of fear, anxiety and nervousness, depending on the situation, occasion and vampire in question. But a clandestine hunt with a werewolf -- well, that was enough to make anyone a bit tweaked.
Even with the magical chain (Buffy still had a little trouble with that UFO part), Randi transformed to a werewolf at moonrise. Different from Oz, the she-wolf remained recognizable as herself, yet mutated into a hairy, hunching Randi with dripping fangs, a wolfish snout and bestial eyes.
And the feral odor -- well, Buffy stayed upwind as much as possible. At least Randi remained dressed in now-tight jeans and shirt. All power of speech was gone, but when Buffy spoke a direct command, Randi obeyed without question. And with a bizarre kind of sign language, Randi was able to communicate as well. She held up a paw/hand for them to stop when she sniffed someone approaching -- pointed when she felt they needed to change directions, the ever-universal shrug of the shoulders when she was confused.
After a nerve-wracking sojourn through back lanes, alleys and empty lots, they finally arrived at the abandoned warehouse section of town. Fallen prey to 90's economics, the former produce packing plants near the rail yards were long derelict. There was probably some social commentary there, but she hadn't given enough attention to economics or civics to catch the subtleties. The vampires frequented the area, and in spite of her dogged search for the exact location of the dreaded lair of Angelus, Spike and Drucilla remained well hidden.
Angel's metamorphosis back to the evil Angelus had upped the body and missing persons count of the region. His savage dedication to death and mayhem left the city on alert. The besieged local city council was considering a curfew, and police patrols were increased. People tended to stay home a lot after dark, raising the movie rentals and birth rate, but also keeping the body count from rising any higher.
Buffy knew the terror would never end until the three veteran vampires were dead. She should have killed Angelus when she had the chance, but didn't have the heart. Bad pun, but true. Now, still uncertain if she could plunge a wooden stake into her beloved Angel, she had to try to destroy the others. Soon there would be an all out war between the undead and mortals, and she was afraid her family and closest friends would be on the first line of attack. Her greatest fear was that she couldn't protect them. One day she wouldn't be at the right place at the right time and then -- well, she would just have to get to the vamps first.
Randi's claw-fist snagged her on the shoulder. She nearly cried out from the long, pointed nails digging into her flesh, but she kept silent. She hardly breathed, straining to hear what the accentuated ears and nose of the wolf detected. Then she felt her own itch of recognition -- a vampire nearby. Peering around the corner of the warehouse, the undead in question lumbered out of a door and down an old wooden loading ramp. He had just exited a dilapidated storehouse. A low, slow growl born in the depths of her chest emanated from Randi. Saliva dripped from her jowls. Buffy grimaced and pulled the she-wolf farther back along the wall. Ready for blood, the wolf would have to be restrained so Buffy could interrogate the bloodsucker, then she'd let Randi have him. Glancing at the beautiful silver chain around the furry neck, Buffy hoped it lived up to its warranty of control. She still didn't relish going up against the ghoulish bunch with a she-wolf as her wingman.
The vampire came around the corner and Buffy grabbed him by the neck, slamming him against the wall. In life the man was probably some kind of hobo. The tattered, stinky clothing and the slight build, even after the enhanced vamp treatment, indicated this was not a prize example of humanity. Good, Buffy assessed. They're recruiting from the bottom of the barrel. Made her job a lot easier.
"We're looking for Spike, Bad Breath."
Instinctively the vampire snarled at her, even as he noted the wolf with rabid alarm. He shrank, struggling to flee, but Buffy held him fast.
"Come on, tell or my friend gets a midnight snack."
Randi bared her fangs, her snout enlarging in proportion to the ferocity. Even Buffy was startled, wondering how much control she could still wield over the wolf. She remembered Oz's total bestiality and again doubted the prudence of this foray.
"Spike -- my master. In -- the building -- " he stuttered.
Buffy relaxed her grip and the vampire fled. In the next few seconds, Randi pounced on the creature's back, throwing him like a rag doll into a wooden fence. Bounding on all fours, she took him by the throat and again threw him into the planks. This time a jagged splinter of board protruded through his torso to pierce his chest and a second later he vanished into dust. Randi sniffed the area, growling in frustrated confusion.
Not sure whether to pat her on the head or scold her, Buffy strove for a command attitude.
"Good work."
Randi growled.
"Okay. Now let's go get the book, Randi."
The she-wolf sprinted up the ramp, but hesitated at the entrance, waiting for Buffy. Slowly opening the door, Buffy entered first, sensing vampires nearby she kept her back to the wall. Beyond the stair landing was a ground floor. The storage depot was large, with crates stacked everywhere. A small living area was assembled with boxes, old furniture and oddities grouped under a skylight where the moon shone through. Several vampires lounged by central crates with Spike in his wheelchair. There was no sign of Drucilla or Angelus.
"So, our Slayer has come looking for her lover," Spike drawled. "Sorry, luv, just us old nasties here. Guess we'll have to do, right boys and girls?"
Several others sauntered into the center from the dark recesses of the large room. There looked to be more than a dozen. Buffy stayed near the door, assessing the odds. Randi, however, took the matter into her own hands.
With a feral snarl the she-wolf swept from behind Buffy and launched over the rickety railing to the floor below. A few of the vampires, young and inexperienced, jumped to attack. Spike and the more knowledgeable instantly retreated into the deepest shadows. Randi mutilated two by the time Buffy landed at her side, but the others regained their fortitude and charged. Well trained and out for blood, this wave of undead seemed to relish the fight with a true beast. Buffy dispatched two then staked the bodies Randi had shredded, and still there were more. Three were smothering Randi trying to bite her neck. With brute power she shoved them away and turned to Buffy. Her paw jangled the chain, fumbling to remove it. She whined at the Slayer who understood all too well the imploring gesture. Raising the loop over the wolf's head, Buffy placed it around her own neck for safekeeping. With a fleeting expression of gratitude, Randi metamorphosed from the near human she-wolf to the completely bestial werewolf.
Chilled by the raw savagery of the new persona, Buffy was momentarily startled and stood transfixed as the werewolf mangled every vampire within reach. Finally realizing this was the perfect distraction, she skirted around the crates in the direction where Spike had fled. A tunnel out of the storage area to who-knew-where and Buffy paused, uncertain if she should go into the darkest heart of the lair with no back up and no clue how many enemies she would find. Again, the decision was taken out of her hands when she heard more vampires approaching. Backing away, she counted at least six undead bodies coming toward her from the blackness.
There were too many for her to handle and she backed away, taking out three more with a miniature crossbow until she reached the stairs. The she-wolf, surrounded by four attackers, ravaged three while Buffy finished off the fourth.
"Come on!" she called, trying to grab her compatriot.
The werewolf dashed past her, sending the vampires running into the dimness. Leaping to the center of the room, she snarled and howled at the moon through the skylight. With a final, bone-chilling roar, she bounded up the stairs. Buffy ran after her, trying to keep the creature in sight, but almost instantly losing her in the dark mists of the winter night. Fingering the silver talisman around her neck, the slayer made her way through the alley in the direction she hoped Randi had gone.
Giles and Ian had reached the area of the warehouses and had cautiously and systematically worked their way down one alley and up the next -- searching to hopefully find the one particular warehouse that Buffy and Randi might have gone into.
They rounded a corner with Giles in the lead, when a fast moving figure came charging towards them. Ian, recognizing the physique for what and who it was, quickly grabbed his cousin and attempted to get them both out of the way as the she-wolf, came charging at the two men, sending them into a tangle.
Giles was the first to regain his feet and offered his cousin a hand up as Buffy came running.
"You let her off the chain?!"
"I tried to catch her," Buffy explained, telling the two men what had just occurred in the warehouse.
But Ian was too agitated to hear the words. "She's in a strange city! With a hunter out there..."
"Ian, please, calm yourself," Rupert implored, gripping his cousin's shoulders. "I know it's upsetting, but we can deal with this. Let's..."
"We've got to find her!" Ian demanded.
Giles pressed his cousin roughly back against the building they were standing near. "Ian!" The snapped command got the professor's attention. "We'll find her." Giles immediately became the essence of calm, reasoning stability. "What will she do?"
"I lost her," Buffy interjected, "I'll do everything I can to find her again."
"Yes, we will," Giles reassured his Slayer.
Ian finally caught his breath and tattered nerves. "She'll try to find some place familiar. Our hotel! Our room looks out over a wooded area at the north end of town."
Buffy turned to her Watcher. "Meadow Terrace. The new gated rich-people digs."
"We'll find her," Giles quickly assured Ian.
"We have to," Ian sighed.
Despite the dangers of the violence-ridden Sunnydale, young couples still congregated in preferred out of the way spots. Steamy-windowed vehicles lined a dirt road at the edge of the woods. Giles parked his old car off the highway, observing the cars for a few minutes. Nothing out of the ordinary caught their attention. Silently, they fanned out in the woods; Buffy in front, Giles and Ian within sight of each other. As they walked deeper toward the dark center of the forest, Buffy called a halt. They quietly joined her.
"There's someone else here."
"Randi?"
Buffy shook her head at the professor's question.
"Vampire?" Giles wondered.
"No." She gestured to the left and they crept through the trees. Buffy suddenly dropped to a crouch, the men followed her example. She pointed through some thick bushes to the dark van in a small clearing.
"Caine," Giles whispered.
"Slow learner," Buffy scoffed. "Shall we teach him what I meant when I said don't come back?"
They watched the werewolf hunter, rifle in hand, stalk off in the direction of lover's lane.
"I'll follow him," Giles instructed. "You two keep looking."
Buffy nodded in agreement. "He's not tracking yet. He's searching, like us."
"I'll keep him distracted," Giles promised.
"Okay," Buffy agreed. "Giles?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
"If she's not hunting, Randi would stay out of sight as much as possible," Ian maintained, "away from people."
"Toward the hotel?" Buffy suggested.
Ian nodded. "But first, I'd like a quick look." He paused at the back of the van, peering in through the dirty windows. He couldn't see much, but was reassured when he didn't spot Randi inside. He rushed to catch up with his companion.
"She's not there," he announced, relief apparent in his voice even through he was whispering.
"Score one for our team," Buffy reasoned.
Caine had decided to skirt the wooded area of the hotel. He hoped to take out the werewolf before the local do-gooders found him again. Realizing dawn was almost upon the city, he knew he was losing his valuable window of opportunity.
From his vantage point among the trees his heart quickened with excitement as he caught sight of the werewolf making it's way slowly out of a stand of trees in the distance. Raising his rifle slowly and sighting along the barrel he was startled by the feel of something sharp at his own back.
"Take your finger off the trigger and hand me your weapon, please," a British voice whispered coldly to him.
A few minutes after dawn, the air was still, nearly noiseless, and dew sprinkled moisture on the meadow grass, the trees and the shimmering cars in the hotel lot.
In a drainage ditch bordering the asphalt, Buffy found the unconscious, naked form of Randi Wallace. Ian peeled off his jacket, covering her, and tried to wake her.
"Is she okay?"
Ian gave her a quick check, relieved there were no injuries. Buffy's unsubtle exam of her neck found no twin puncture marks.
"She'll be fine. The transformation is very hard on her."
Still dazed and groggy, Ian carried Randi up to the hotel room. Once assured they would be all right on their own, Buffy walked back through the woods to where she thought she'd seen movement.
Giles took the gun out of the hunter's hand and lowered his crossbow, which he had been using to disarm Caine, and leaned it against a tree.
Hefting the rifle Giles tossed it towards Buffy who had appeared almost by their side without warning. "Everything go all right?"
Buffy caught the rifle easily and answered Giles' question. "Yup, safe and sound."
Giles spoke again to Caine. "Turn around."
Caine angrily confronted the man and the girl who had ruined his hunt last month. Noting that Giles was now unarmed he took a swing at him and was very surprised when that swing was effortlessly blocked. Trying again the hunter found himself unexpectedly in the dirt after Giles had delivered two quick blows to his stomach and jaw.
Buffy came over and looked amusedly at her Watcher. "Feel better now?"
Giles smiled at Buffy. "Yes, much."
"You don't listen very well, Caine, I told you to get out of Dodge." Buffy looked down at the fallen hunter as she once again bent the barrel of his rifle and dropped it beside him.
"Who are you people?" Caine groaned
"As you correctly surmised last month, I'm a librarian and this is my student," Giles informed the hapless hunter.
Buffy laughed and grabbed the crossbow from where it rested, joining Giles as he headed towards the hotel.
Buffy crept down to the basement to check on Willow, surprised to find her still awake.
"Hey, Will. How's the wolf-watch?"
"Buffy!" Willow sounded delighted to see her friend. "Ah, not too bad, really. Oz made it through the night and he's sleeping now."
"And you aren't because...?" Buffy asked her mock severely.
"Because, well... I know this sounds funny, but I like to watch him sleep."
"Yeah, I understand." Buffy sighed wearily joining her friend on the couch they had placed down there.
"Did you get it?" Willow asked eagerly.
Buffy shook her head. "We're still bookless."
"Darn," Willow whispered glumly.
"And then I had to let Randi loose from the chain because we were just way too overwhelmed by vamps."
"Oh, is she okay?"
"Yup, we found her, just before Elmer Fudd declared it werewolf season."
"That man, why doesn't he leave us alone?" Willow complained.
"Well, Giles went a round with him tonight," Buffy declared.
"Giles hit him?"
"Only a couple of times." Buffy chuckled. "Actually he deserved it after all his comments. And I got to bend another one of his guns for him." Buffy shrugged and then yawned tiredly. "Maybe he'll listen this time."
Looking across the table at Randi Wallace, Giles didn't have to use his imagination to believe her cursed as a werewolf. Consuming three roast beef sandwiches, potato chips and two bottles of Dr. Pepper, the she-wolf seemed barely satisfied. Giles fought for a sense of normalcy. His cousin's girlfriend was a werewolf. Hardly worthy of comment in Sunnydale.
Indulging in a brief nap before school gave him enough rest to keep his eyes open and wits about him. He used the first three class periods to research old blueprints of the town, which were spread under the plates and glasses like tablecloths and place settings. The three tracked connections between the warehouse/vampire lair and an old railroad station. It was Giles' best guess for the night stalkers' daytime digs and the most likely spot to search for the book.
"Do you think we should go hunting on our own?" Ian wondered around a yawn. "It looks like rain."
Giles glanced out the window.
"Shouldn't we wait for Buffy?" Ian asked.
"She has a test in biology today and can't afford the time off," Rupert readily excused. "It's daytime, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"Are you going to eat that last pickle, Giles?" Randi pointed to his plate. At a negative shake, she took it, crunching on it enthusiastically. "I still find it hard to believe this powerful slayer person is a seventeen year old girl," she mumbled with her mouth full.
Rupert eyed the attractive young woman across from him. "I could say the same about your... uh... situation," he countered. Glancing at the empty plates, his misgivings diminished as he remembered her buried nature.
"I find no difficulty whatsoever thinking of you as a Watcher, Ru," Ian smiled. "Your serious nature all your life... well, except for that brief period when you turned twenty-one. But the talent for stakes," he smiled and picked one up from a ruck sack on the floor,"and the crossbow, that's a surprise."
Giles replaced the implement. "Hopefully, there will be no need to use these. We've only a few hours before sunset."
"And not much longer than that before moonrise," Ian advised.
Gathering the blueprints and the bag, they set off for the warehouse.
Clouds covered the sky, with rain in the forecast, so Giles urged them to hurry. Part of the annual El Niño storms always hit Sunnydale, and this season looked to be serious. For safety's sake all wore silver crucifixes and carried a stake in one hand when they entered the loading dock of the warehouse. Anemic light filtered through the dirty skylight like murky veils of mist in the dank complex. Flashlights scanned the room, but no movements were seen nor heard.
"Do you sense anything, Randi?" Ian asked. She removed the silver chain, handing it to Matheson, and closed her eyes. Shaking her head, she took a few steps, listening, sniffing, but again shook her head.
"Nothing," she reported as Ian placed the chain back around her neck.
"Let's go, then." Giles led the way to the back of the building.
Entering the tunnel the vampires had used the night before, Randi took the lead. Slowly, they followed the soon-to-be she-wolf to another loading platform, and more warehouses. More passageways led into the murky unknown. Giles consulted the blueprints. Not all the corridors were on the map. They would have to pick a few and search as many as possible before dark. Three entryways were traversed, three old storage rooms searched until they came to a larger room similar to the first big building. This was smaller than the depot and held more evidence of habitation. Boarded up windows allowed not a sliver of daylight through and the stench of trash, blood and death permeated the place.
"Sometimes I hate the pursuit of knowledge," Ian sighed, as he carefully scanned a three-sided crate stacked on old equipment. "Who'd have thought vampires were such pack rats?" The flashlight beam scanned over other oddments of personal items.
"Trophies," Giles grimaced. "Or in the case of my book, valuable intelligence."
Steady tapping filtered through the conversation and they stopped to listen. Rain... ahead of schedule. Giles urged them to hurry, instructing them to scan the corners and nooks. Thicker clouds moved low, dropping the light to near-night dimness. It was folly to stay, he knew, but the blasted book was so important They were right here, probably within inches of the old fossilized tome and Giles could not give up without some effort at finding the prize.
Randi nervously reminded them moonrise was within the hour. They had lost all perspective of time here in the dank catacombs of the past. Only two more doors off the main room. They would split up and carefully, quickly, search both.
Giles eased open a door to what seemed to be a cargo area. Weight counters and old shelves loomed out of the dark. On the wooden racks were books. Pushing through a bit more, he scanned the room, seeing no suspicious forms or movement. Poised on the brink of entering, he paused, reason and circumspection warring with the need to appease his curiosity and need to triumph. If he found the book now, there might be no more curse for Randi and Oz. No more danger to Buffy on this front. It might give them a much needed boost in the fight against evil.
Taking a deep breath for courage, he listened, hearing the rain. Stepping cautiously inside, with his back to the wall, he moved to the nearest rack. Many of the books were old, some probably left when the station was abandoned. Only a few seemed without a film of dust and he took a step forward, certain he recognized the worn binding of one volume. His fingers closed on the crumbling leather, then he froze.
A sixth sense alerted him a second before the soft tread behind him. He ducked and spun, swiveling back to a defensive posture against the wall. In the next instant a vampire's distorted face filled the beam of the flashlight and charged toward him. Fangs glinting, moving in for the kill, he saw the blur of a stake fly past him, it plunged deep into the creature's chest just as it's hand touched Giles. Undead dust floured him and he choked, rubbing his eyes clear in time to brace for another attack. This time the vampire turned to powder several feet away. Ian held up the stake in his hand.
"Now let's get out of here."
"Yes," Rupert agreed, but sidetracked to the books on the shelf.
The wooden rack creaked, tipped, and nearly toppled onto him. As he fell back against the wall, he caught the fleeting image of Angelus on the other side of the room. Dust clouded around them. Behind Ian there was a menacing growl as another vampire entered the fray. Throwing his stake like a spear, Giles hit the surprised vampire in the chest. Sticking in no farther than an inch or two, the creature laughed at the inadequate assault.
"Laugh it up," Randi quipped as she kicked the vampire in the back, throwing him to the floor where he scattered to ash.
"Now can we leave?" Ian implored and grabbed Giles by the arm.
"Not without that," he insisted, crouching on the floor to retrieve the ancient book.
They raced to the passageway they had come in through. Giles took out another vampire at the door, while Randi and Ian kicked the planks off the window openings. Throwing themselves out, they scrambled to their feet in the slippery mud, and ran toward the car. The dark, low clouds and heavy rain made the late afternoon dreary and forbidding. Expecting an attack from every looming wall and corner, they raced the final stretch back to the school with breathless speed.
Giles fumbled for his keys. Something was painfully jabbed into his spine and he straightened automatically, dropping his keys in the mud. Ian and Randi, busy looking out for vampires, never saw Caine until he pushed Giles against the car.
Pressing the rifle barrel harder into the librarian's spine, he threatened to shoot.
Caine stared at Randi. "I know you're the werewolf. Come with me and I won't kill him."
Giles made a move to shift away and Caine pressed him into the car. "Try that again, friend, and you're brains'll be all over the car."
"Are you nuts?" Randi screamed. "There are vampires after us! We've got to get out of here!"
"Let him go," Ian ordered, crossing around the back of the car. "Our lives are in danger!"
"Not a chance," Caine spit out. "It's not long before moonrise. When she changes, she's mine!"
Without warning Angelus appeared and ripped Caine away from his victim. The rifle discharged, and Giles ducked to the side in time to avoid the clutches of another fiend. Ian felled the creature pouncing on him, and Randi turned two to ash by the time Giles killed his attacker. Three more raced toward them when Randi transformed into a werewolf. It was the last thing Caine witnessed before his throat was torn out by Angelus.
Randi ripped apart one vampire on her way to what she sensed as the ultimate threat. Fangs dripping with blood, Angelus warily stalked the she-wolf as she tracked his every movement. Like tigers, they circled, searching for vulnerabilities, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Only fleeting attention could be given to that battle. With more undead gathering, Giles and Ian had their hands full staying alive. The numbers were overwhelming and Ian wanted to call to Randi for help, but was afraid the distraction would get her killed.
Even with the small crossbow and supply of stakes, Rupert knew they were doomed without Randi's aid -- if she could survive a fight with Angelus. He had hundreds of years of guile and evil to back him up. Pushing away another vampire, Giles fired his last arrow. The next fiend coming toward him dissolved to soppy dust, drifting down with the raindrops, a wooden stake falling to the mud from the disintegrated body. Looking up on the other side of the car, Buffy gave a slight salute and extinguished an undead crowding Ian.
"Buffy," Giles smiled. "Thank you."
"Just like the old movies," Ian sighed. "The cavalry arrives in the nick of time."
Buffy turned to Angelus. He smiled and gave a mocking bow then, turning, he faded into the gathering darkness. Buffy took a few steps after him, but he was already lost amid the old buildings, curtained by the night and the rain. Glancing back at her companions, she knew it would be a mistake to leave them alone out here. The vampires had vanished, and there were flames licking the old derelict buildings.
She turned around and stood next to her Watcher. "Let's get out of here."
"You should go after him," Giles suggested.
"Nah. I can't leave you grown-ups unprotected," she quipped, but there was no humor in her tone.
"Good, then maybe we can get back in time," Giles countered.
"In time for what?" Ian asked.
From beneath his coat the Watcher pulled the old volume he had retrieved from the clutches of the vampires. A bullet was furrowed into the back cover. He nervously stuttered at the obvious close call. "Oz. And Randi. Maybe we can end this terrible curse tonight."
They climbed into the car and drove straight to the library.
As a student at Oxford, Rupert had endured trying times and serious tests of nerve and mettle. The task before him matched those ordeals as he searched the fragile book for information on werewolves or the medallion and chain. A quarter inch of the last pages were perforated with the bullet that could have killed him. He left it embedded in a chapter detailing lake monsters and carefully thumbed page by page in hopes of something pertinent. His task wasn't made any easier by having to listen to Oz's continual howling from his nearby cage, Randi's throaty growling, and Ian and Buffy leaning literally over his shoulders, anxious to find the lore.
"Just flip through it," Buffy suggested.
"Too old," Giles denied.
"Don't these things ever come with indexes?" Ian complained.
"No."
"Pity," Ian sighed. "We should examine the binding. Perhaps the medallion..."
"No hidden treasures," Giles countered. "Already checked... here, here, a chapter on lycanthropy in animals... yes," he chattered. "Lycanthropy in humans!"
Everyone crowed closer. From nowhere Xander appeared, also joining the tightly clustered circle around the Watcher.
The old English was nearly impossible to read. Between the antiquated text, spelling, worn fabric page, faded ink and interspersed Latin, no one could define anything except Giles. They doggedly remained, however, glued to him as if they could detect the message as he did.
"Yes, it talks of lycanthropy as a gypsy curse and gives... no, that doesn't help." He ran his fingers down the page. "Ah, yes. Here. A legend that lycanthropy is a disease!"
He glanced up at Randi. "It tells of a talisman. A chain and medallion, in two pieces -- curious workmanship and considered some kind of magic by the locals who tell the story."
Excitement tinged his voice as he related the tale, everyone in the room thrilled at the similarities in the aged manuscript. "The author had never seen the talisman, but recorded..." his voice stammered "...recorded its description!" he cried.
Carefully leafing through the next few pages he found a folded-over parchment pressed into the seam. Slowly, painstakingly straightening the brittle page, he, and the others, gasped at the likeness to Randi's necklace. Dangling from the chain was a medallion with foreign inscriptions and indecipherable markings. Ian hugged Randi, emotions choking his throat. Although the medallion was still out of their grasp, the book's tale gave them hope.
By the pink light of pre-sun dawn, a small party gathered around the blue van still parked where they'd left it. Using one of Giles' many unique instruments, Xander jiggled the lock to the back doors and snapped them open within a few moments.
"I'm impressed," Buffy confessed. "Maybe I'm not the only one in the crowd with a record?"
"Ah, detention... your tax dollars at work!" Xander smiled smugly. He stepped aside and waved to the adults. "All yours. I wouldn't know what to look for."
Ian, Giles and Randi climbed into the cramped hideaway of the former werewolf hunter. Xander and Buffy unlocked the cab and searched, not surprised to find only useless personal belongings, including more 70's 8 track tapes than should be legal. As expected, various high-tech tracking instruments crowded the van, as well as numerous lethal weapons. In a locked strongbox, that Xander obligingly opened, they found a full box of werewolf fangs. Ian picked up a worn book and felt both disgusted and excited that it was a diary of Caine's career as a werewolf hunter, cataloging his many sightings and kills. Gruesome as the prize was, it could possibly help with their quest. The theory was confirmed when Giles found an old, thin, carved wood box. Inside was a faded velvet casing for some kind of round object and a larger circular form.
He nudged his cousin. "Ian. For the medallion?"
"Yes," he breathed.
"And a place for the chain," Randi pointed to the large circle about the round impression. "I wonder how many years it rested there."
"Or how old it is." Giles studied the box. "Judging by its age and condition, this is quite old. Perhaps a century. Maybe more."
Buffy stuttered, "But that... that would make the whole werewolf/alien thing like..."
"Really old," Xander finished for her. "So these alien dudes could have been here..."
"Way before Brady Bunch reruns," Buffy concluded.
Ian reverently rubbed his fingers over the velvet. "Perhaps. We won't know until we find the medallion."
Randi had pulled out several disc boxes and Ian found a laptop under some dirty laundry. Further clues would need to be studied at a more leisurely pace in a safer location. Loading up everything that would even remotely be of possible use, they cautiously left the van and returned to the school.
Sunnydale again lived up to it's name on Monday morning when the sun peaked over the mountains, shining in a cloudless sky. Just before school started, a curious group gathered in the library where select students and one faculty member had remained for most of the night. Despite Willow's attention being divided between Oz and the computer records, she still managed to scan the discs and hard drive once belonging to the late Caine.
Downloading data even vaguely pertaining to the wolf claw medallion, she went over it with Ian and Randi. Promising to forward any other discoveries to them, all felt discouraged at not finding the other part of the talisman, but hopeful the search would soon end.
Saying their good-byes, Ian promised they would return to cure Oz once they retrieved the medallion. The Slayerettes bid them fond farewells and went to class; the start of a new week, as if nothing untoward had occurred over the weekend.
Giles and Buffy walked Ian and Randi out to their car.
"Let's not make visits so far apart," Ian demanded.
"Agreed," Rupert sincerely conceded, "It's been too long."
Randi gave his cousin a hug. "Maybe you'll get down to L.A. sometime."
Giles' face twisted in dismay. "I... uh..."
"Hey," Randi grinned, "While you're there we can put you on the show. Your expertise would really wow our audience..." At
his stricken shock she laughed. "Guess not, huh?"
"No... no," he stuttered, not entirely sure it was a joke. "Not in this lifetime, I think." Speculatively eyeing his cousin, he conjectured, "I suppose you'll be back whenever you need some story ideas."
"Of course," Matheson confirmed.
'Oh, one other thing," Randi added. "If two F.B.I. agents, by the names of Mulder and Scully show up..."
"Yes?" Buffy asked expectantly.
"Duck," Ian returned succinctly.
With a jaunty wave the two occult/show-biz personalities got into their convertible and drove off down the road.
Giles and Buffy watched them pull out of the lot toward the freeway.
"Mulder," Giles mused. "Knew a chap named Mulder at Oxford. Imaginative fellow. Believed in UFO's and such. Obviously not the same chap Ian mentioned."
"Obviously," Buffy agreed. "So, Giles, how long do you think it'll be until they unexpectedly show up again on our doorstep?"
"Well, I hope it isn't the next full moon Buffy. There are enough supernatural crises in our lives without adding another werewolf on a regular basis."
"Good point," Buffy conceded. "Who're this Mulder and Scully they warned us about?"
"I'm not sure, but it sounded like it would be better for us if they didn't come to Sunnydale."
Buffy nodded in agreement. "Maybe we should have Will look 'em up?"
"Maybe."
"You were really into this long lost family thing, weren't you?"
Giles mouth quirked in amusement. "Yes... just don't ever tell Ian that I admitted that."
"Your secrets are safe with me, Giles," Buffy promised with a smile.
"I know that, Buffy."