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Chapter 22
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A/N Brief dialogue from “Dead Things” written by Steven S. DeKnight, and one put-down compliments of my eldest sister.  Also, one mention of events in an episode not covered in this story but referred to as if it had happened before events of this tale begin.
 


 
"Fang boy seemed to think this little plan had legs," Gunn admitted.  "You see any reason he might be wrong?"
 
"I'm still seeing a long life for you when you warble the Gilbert and Sullivan, so that's a positive."  Lorne had actually enjoyed Charles surprising him with a tune from H.M.S. Pinafore when asked to sing.  It was a nice relief from badly performed R & B tunes.  It seemed every demon he'd read lately had imagined themselves to be the next Usher or Lil' Kim. 
 
"I'm down for that," Charles smiled.  "So I got a crash course in Army 101 from Miller back at the Farm.  I'm hoping it can be a quick James-Bond-and-out because that place sounds like a soul killer."
 
"It's not pretty," Lorne agreed somberly. 
 
Willow handed Gunn a manila envelope.  "I don't think I've forgotten anything.  All the documents should hold up.  We tried to cover everything."
 
Gunn thumbed through his new identity.  "Richard Roundtree?  Who came up with that?"
 
Willow blushed.  "Xander really was holding out for John Shaft, but we thought maybe there were fans of 70's blaxploitation films that might snap to it so we settled on the actor's name."
 
Gunn gave her a 'who are you people?' look.  "Why not just give me the name Fake Soldier or I.M. Spy?"
 
Giles looked flustered.  "I don't think anyone will catch on.  It really was intended as an homage.  Xander has spent far too much time watching films and does have his heroes."
 
"How about Lando Calrissian then?  At least Billy Dee would be less obvious."
 
"We can change it," Willow promptly took back the various I.D.s.  "We haven't done the computer hacking yet, so that's not a problem.
 
Charles smiled at the uncomfortable girl, "Just messin' with you, freckles.  I don't really care what you call me as long as I can remember to answer to it."
 
Giles looked at the notes he had made. "Miller able to coach you enough to pass for military, do you think?"
 
"Got some old R.O.T.C. training to help out too."  Gunn remembered how much he had resented his grandmother pushing that on him at the time.  Never thought it would come in handy.  "I can use that and Hollywood up the rest.  Not planning any Band of Brothers relationships; just get in and scope it all out, pass on messages and then go A.W.O.L."
 
"Yes, the sooner you can accomplish that, the safer for all involved," Giles nodded in agreement.  "Xander will be working with you as well; he has access to certain helpful memories of army life."
 
"He was in the military?" Charles had met Harris briefly when he had first arrived and the boy didn't seem old enough to have done a tour of duty.
 
Willow smiled, "Hellmouth style.  Long story about enchanted Halloween costumes and chaos-loving magicians."
 
Gunn couldn't help the confused look at that.  "And that gets turned into military protocol, how?  Maybe I'd be better off just having a movie marathon to study."
 
"You might find his knowledge surprisingly helpful." Giles assured him.  "It was the best aftereffects from magic I've encountered.  Quite useful, actually."
 
"Will do then.  I'm happy to help out, but I was looking forward to running the South American route for our little underground railroad.  Once we get your Slayer and vampire out of that place, I can get back to plan A."  Gunn only hoped there would still be things to do along that line after he did a short role as a mole in the lab.
 
"Any chance your mojo is able to pinpoint where I can find the two of them pretty quickly?" Charles looked hopefully at Willow.  "I've heard you wield a pretty powerful wand."
 
Willow sighed wistfully, "Sadly, a powerful sorcerer beat me to it where the labs are concerned.  It's shielded pretty heavily from any magic or we would have already mounted a rescue."
 
"He gonna be a problem?"  Gunn noticed their look of confusion so he clarified, "The Dark Lord sorcerer?"
 
"Ethan is no longer a problem," Giles assured the young man.  "His handiwork, however, continues to be a stumbling block for our best assets."
 
"I think you're selling our own Hermoine short here," Lorne suggested.  "Maybe magic won't let us get the Slayer and Spike out of there, but my guess is there's still enough magical talent in this little group to do some damage otherwise.  Maybe as part of the diversion?"
 
*** 
 
Xander and Anya were whispering their argument, only stopping for the waiter to deliver their meal.  "I don't like it.  There have to be at least five other guys on your crew that Max could send!"
 
"I don't like it either, honey, but I can't say no to the boss.  The problems at the San Jose site need to be stopped muy pronto.  It's costing Max an arm and a leg."
 
"I wish I had my powers, I'd make him pay up," Anya vowed.
 
"Much as I find that idea to be poetic justice, it doesn't stop the fact that I'm the lucky grunt he decided on to go in for the fix."  Xander took his girlfriend’s hand gently and caressed her palm.  "I promise I'll only be a day, maybe two. Besides we'll have plenty to do here fairly soon.  Can't be away too long."
 
Anya sighed and pouted slightly, "I'm going to miss all our orgasms too, Xander." She looked at him with mischief in her eye and spoke in a normal tone, not caring if they could be heard.  "I just got that new Wonder Woman costume and was hoping you could be Steve Trevor this weekend and conquer the Warrior Princess of the Amazons with your manly seductions."
 
Xander blushed and looked around to see if Anya's latest sexual TMI moment had been noticed.  "That'll make a great incentive for me to wrap things up quickly."
 
Xander leaned over and kissed her gently.  "Now I need to go make a quick pit stop.  If the waiter comes by, I'd like another Lite.  Are we okay, honey?"
 
Anya looked put upon but resigned, "Yes, we're fine.  I just miss you when you aren't around."
 
Xander headed for the men's room, completely missing the predatory looks being given to his fiancé by the dark haired man in the next booth. If he had, he would not have been pleased to see the man was sporting the brown uniform favored by the goon squad that injured Tara.
 
Warren Mears sidled up to the hot looking, dirty-talking blonde whose date had just conveniently left the table.  "So how did you get so beautiful?"
 
Anya stared at the young Lothario wannabe.  "Okay, does that line usually work?"
 
"It’s not a line when the lady is a stone fox, as you clearly are," Warren offered his hand.  "I'm Warren, but if you'll consider not wasting that Wonder Woman costume your date didn't fully appreciate, I'll answer to anything you like.  Personally, I thought she and Batman would burn holes in the Universe if they ever got together. I could even bring over some of the cool gadgets I've made that actually work, unlike the fantasy Batman gear."
 
Anya looked at the boy as if he'd grown an additional head.  "My date is actually going to be my husband and he will be right back.  I doubt he will like having his fiancé being hit on by someone else." 
 
Warren dismissed her gentle brush-off and continued his pursuit. "It'd be a big trade up, Princess.” His eyebrows tweaked and his voice lowered on the word big.
 
"Xander is nicely formed and gives me excellent orgasms," Anya waved a hand dismissively at Mears.  "I don't need anyone else.  I'm sure you can find someone else interesting to you; if not here, maybe at the comic book store?"
 
Warren stood and glared at the girl who had just shut him down without hesitation.  "You don't know what you're missing."
 
Anya gave him a wilting stare, "I already have one ass in my pants, and I don't need or want another."  She looked towards the restrooms, hoping Xander would soon be coming back to the table.  This strange boy was annoying and didn't seem to be able to take no for an answer.
 
Warren bristled.  Just who did this bitch think she was anyway?  How dare she insult him when he had just offered to take care of needs that clearly the floppy haired idiot she was with wasn't meeting!  He seemed to think he recognized the man from somewhere.  'Yeah!  He's the guy that stopped my crew from putting the hurt on that kid.'  He knew him from somewhere else too.  Where was it?
 
Anya cleared her throat to get his attention, "I think you'd better leave before Xander comes back.  He has strong hands and a well developed upper body.  You wouldn't want him to have to make you leave."
 
Xander.  Yeah, that name rang bells.  Wasn't Xander the name of the Slayer's friend?  Warren seemed to remember the man as part of that bitch's entourage.  He hadn't appreciated her nosing into his business last year when his robot, April, had come to town.  That wasn't Slayer business!  She was supposed to have been busy dealing with the first Initiative and that Adam thing, not messing with his affairs!
 
'So her boyfriend's a friend of the demon-loving Slayer, and one who defended a possible demon himself recently.  Wonder where little Miss Wonder Woman stands on the issue?'  He gave her an oily smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Well, can't say I didn't offer."
 
"Didn't offer what?" The voice came from directly behind Mears. He stood and turned to look at the clearly ticked off face of Harris--yeah, that was his name.
 
"This guy heard me talking about my costume and made rude suggestions about taking your place while you were out of town," Anya answered rather too truthfully.
 
"Did he really?" Xander gave a deadly look at the man.  "I'm sure you let him know he didn't have to worry about us and our personal business."
 
"I did, but he wasn't wanting to listen," Anya rolled her eyes.  "He seems to think he's a real ladykiller."
 
"Just a demon killer," Warren corrected with a smirk.  "I don't suppose that should worry you now, should it?"
 
Anya hoped she didn't show any fear but gulped nervously.  "Not at all."
 
"I make it a point to be sure we clear all that scum out, even the ones that don't look it," Mears offered a veiled threat and eyed Anya up and down speculatively.  "But like you said, you don't need to worry.  Also, you don't need to thank me for helping to keep you safe either."
 
Xander had had enough of this. "Anya's perfectly safe with me.  No one is going to hurt or bother her while I'm around to stop it."  He clenched his fists and noticed Warren giving them a glance. 
 
"I'm always available to any lady in need," he smirked at Anya.  "I'll just rejoin my group then, seeing that the lady is already spoken for."  He nodded at the pair and walked away.
 
"I don't like that man," Anya shivered.  "He gives me the creeps."
 
"Yeah," Xander agreed.  "Well, it's over and you don't need to worry about him anymore."
 
Anya looked over and, seeing the malice in Warren's eyes boring into her, hoped Xander was right.
 
***
 
The orderly adjusted the restraints holding Buffy on the gurney while a six-man team of soldiers held Spike at bay.  "She's a bloody human being, you nits!" Spike had never hated the crippling chip in his head more than now when he could have easily and happily ripped all of the wankers to pieces and saved his girl from more pain and humiliation.
 
Buffy's strength had once more been compromised by drugs administered earlier in the day.  She and Spike had known it had to be a precursor to something unpleasant.
 
The orderly blushed and muttered, "Nothing too bad this time, miss.  They're going to do some brain scans, no cutting."  He offered an apologetic smile to Buffy and a nervous glance at the growling vampire.
 
It was downright unnatural, these two! If the girl really was human, it was even odder--if you asked his opinion.  Of course no one did, but the consensus was that the caring relationship observed between the so-called Slayer and the vampire was nothing less than disgusting and certainly shameful.
 
Ever since they put the two together, it was obvious that they knew one another well and had genuine concern for each other.  Fry had never seen the likes of it and he'd been with the Initiative since Maggie had first set up shop in this town.
 
He'd seen other demons demonstrate emotional attachments, of course, but not vampires and not towards a human either.  Maybe the brass were right and, in spite of all the test results Fry had heard about, the girl wasn’t human after all.  'Maybe a demon related to vampires.  Got a lot of the same powers and strengths.' That could explain the sick relationship.
 
He tightened the straps as tight as he could without cutting off her circulation and wheeled the gurney out of the cell.  'Be glad to get away from that one,' he thought as he glanced at the vampire with the eerie golden eyes.
 
The guards backed out, weapons still trained on the vampire.  They all breathed easier once the cell was secured and the electricity turned back on to power the field.
 
Buffy was conscious, and she was also angry.  She hated having her power diminished like this.  'Did I ever really say I just wanted to be a normal girl?  What was I thinking?'
 
The elevator had piped-in music, evidently for the questionable enjoyment of the staff.  No self-respecting demon would listen to badly done instrumental versions of J-Lo hits without going off the spool and ripping out wires.
 
Buffy was spared further musical indignities when the elevator door opened with a friendly ding on sub-level seven. The orderly pushed her out into an overly bright, wide hallway, then left her to check in at the nurses’ station.  "Summers here for scheduled scans," he announced.
 
The desk nurse clicked on her keyboard, then printed out a small stack of papers for Fry to fill out.  "Man, there's more paperwork here than in the regular army," he quipped.  "I didn't think that was even possible."
 
The nurse chuckled and offered her sympathy.
 
There was a commotion nearby.  Buffy could barely twist her head far enough to see what was happening.  She didn't need special powers to hear what was being said, however; both participants were perfectly loud and clearly angry.
 
A thuggish looking guy in black leather was walking towards the small group of people, not giving Buffy as much as a glance.  She thought he looked familiar, but couldn't put a name to his face.  'I think he was one of the wetworks guys that tried to kill me when I was in Faith's body!'  What was going on here?
 
"There has to be a mistake, Starling," the woman's clipped, upper class British accent sounded panicked.  "These girls are Potentials; they are under the protection of the Council.  It is how it has been for centuries!"
 
"They are renegades and have been ever since you and the other traitors tried to hide them.  What did you think would happen when we eventually found your location?"
 
"These girls have done nothing wrong," the woman continued.  "If there is any retribution for our decision, let the blame fall on me!"
 
"Oh, it will, Davina, I assure you."
 
"What is to become of them?"
 
"They'll be processed and tested, nothing too invasive unless Travers decides it's necessary.  We've been getting enough information from Summers though," he motioned towards Buffy with his head.
 
Davina looked at the wan girl on the gurney with a look of pure horror.  "My God, what have you been up to?"
 
"Winning the war, Davina, as we should have done long since."  The man referred to as Starling then gave orders to the soldiers surrounding five young, frightened girls.  The youngest couldn't have been more than eight or nine.  "Put these girls in the holding pit with the female demon spawn."
 
"You can't be serious, Crispin," Davina sputtered.  "They'll tear the girls apart once they sense what they are." She had sworn to protect the girls with her life, only for it to come to this.
 
"Maybe, maybe not.  I suppose we'll find out soon enough though," Starling motioned to the soldiers for the girls to be herded away from the incensed Watcher. 
 
With a grim look, he then waved the black clad assassin to his side.  "Davina here was wondering about retribution, Weatherby.  I see no reason to keep the lady waiting."
 
The wetworks veteran grinned diabolically and neatly snapped Davina's neck.  "Clean up in aisle six," he chuckled as he stepped over her lifeless body.