The (Not-So-)Standard Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven characters belong to Mirisch/Trilogy Productions/CBS, etc. Cuervo belongs to Mog. Bureau 13: Stalking the Night Fantastic & JP Withers used by permission of the creator & copyright owner, Richard Tucholka and Tri Tac Systems. The character of Gabriel Winston, however, is my own (In fact, he was my main RPG character when I played the game). Also: "Parriot Vampires" refers to James Parriot, creator of Forever Knight. I don't think they had, at the time of Gabriel's creation, actually showed how that kind of vampire flies (like Superman, or what), but I chose to say their kind turns into bats. My GM at the time approved it. "Steakley/Carpenter Vampires" refers to John Steakley who wrote, and John Carpenter who directed, Vampire$ (although Mr. Carpenter didn't write or direct, but only produced the sequel, Los Muertos). "Whedon Vampires" refers to the ones created by Joss Whedon for Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. "Akasha's Children" refers to Ann Rice's breed. I make no claims upon any of them. I'm not making any money off this, so please don't sue. (The other breeds of vampires mentioned are the ones of common ancient legend.)
Date: August, 2002. Permission to use Bureau 13: Stalking the Night Fantastic granted January 29, 2003. Re-edited (for the last time, I hope!) 2/8/03.
Rating: PG-13 (Violence, language)
Author's note: This story is the first in a series loosely based on the role-playing game Bureau 13: Stalking the Night Fantastic. The premise is as follows: In 1862, President Abraham Lincoln formed Bureau 13, a secret and independently-operating branch of the U.S. Justice Department (before the formation of the FBI, of which Bureau 13 is now a part), who's purpose was the investigation and solution of problems or crimes of a supernatural, paranormal, extraterrestrial or extra-dimensional nature. Small teams, usually traveling teams but occasionally permanently based, consist of either trained law enforcement officials, capable civilians, or both. These teams are formed and operate independently, but are answerable to and financed through, the FBI.
BUREAU 13 BASICS:
Excerpt from the Bureau 13: Stalking the Night Fantastic Role Playing Handbook)
The second part of this story is by my husband's request. It isn't what I was originally going to do, but this version is pretty good, I think. It also gave me a chance to right what I thought was a wrong done in Los Muertos. They had their reasons, I'm sure, (actor availability?). But I still don't have to like it.
Note For Re-Edited Version of 8/16/02: I corrected a couple of mistakes I caught after what I thought was the final posting of this story. (Ain't modern technology grand?) I also realized I'd forgotten to formally state that this is an open AU (for the M7 fanfic sites that require it), and that anyone can write in it if you wish. If you don't have a Bureau 13 handbook to refer to, please just try to at least adhere to the rules stated above, and try not to go too far off the deep end (anybody remember the second half of Twin Peaks' second season? I couldn't figure it out, either).
Note for Re-Edited Version of 2/8/03: Spotted a few more mistakes & one glaring story omission that I'm surprised nobody called me on earlier.
The scream echoed up the alley and out into the deserted street. It was night, and the full moon gave little light into the corridor created by the tall buildings on three sides. The scream was repeated, although this second one ended in a blood-chilling gurgle.
Bounty hunter Vin Tanner cursed roundly and unholstered his Browning Hi-Power pistol as he raced down the long alley-way. 'Damn!' Vin thought, 'Just a few more minutes and I'd'a had 'im!' The Texan with the shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes had chased this particularly brutal felon through three states. Using precognitive ability and everything else he could bring to bear, he'd dogged the big man's heels relentlessly, trying to bring his horrifying murder spree to an end. Tonight, he'd just missed the man, arriving at his room in a seedy motel half an hour too late. Vin had then tracked him from alley to alley until he'd ended up... here. And just minutes too late! Heedless of any danger, confident in the power of his trusty gun to get him out of trouble, Vin ran headlong down the alley—and came to a dead stop at what he found.
In the meantime, Vin wasn't the only one hunting the serial murderer Eli Joe. Someone else had arrived on the same street a few minutes after Tanner. The blond man dressed all in black had taken one look at the long-haired bounty hunter—and stopped dead in his tracks.
The blond man blinked, shocked. Then he started to run down the street towards the alley. He moved far faster than a normal human was capable of, arriving at the mouth of the alley just after the brown-haired man entered it. That's when he smelled it. Wolfen. Oh, God, no!
The blond man ran into the alley to find the other man standing stock-still, staring. Then the Texan determinedly aimed, and fired off two rounds.
The werewolf at the end of the alley barely flinched.
"Forget it." The blond man told the brown-haired one. "That won't work against a werewolf! You need silver bullets!"
Vin Tanner whirled. God, he must have been in shock; he hadn't even sensed the other man there! He brought the pistol around, but the blond man side-slipped while pushing the barrel out of line.
"Whoa, there, Cowboy!"
And then their gazes met, and something connected, deep inside. And Vin knew this man could handle the... thing.
"Vin Tanner." The Texan said, starting to recover.
"Chris Larabee." The black-clad man replied, hiding his shock.
But the thing was still there, feeding on his latest victim. The blond man drew a Colt M1911 pistol from a belt holster faster than any old west gunslinger, and fired three shots. Vin watched, amazed, as the creature went down instantly. Then it transformed into a human—Eli Joe.
"What—?" Vin blurted, staring, astonished at the dead man at the end of the alley. He turned to the blond man for an explanation. He was gone. Vin searched frantically around for a few seconds, then turned back to Eli Joe.
The body was gone, but the head remained.
"Oh, man I am not seein' this!" Vin muttered. Then, cautiously, he advanced down the alley. The shredded body of a woman lay in a bloody heap. There wasn't much left of her. Vin grimaced and turned away. Finally, he approached the head. He nudged it uncertainly with one cowboy-booted foot, irrationally checking for signs of life. There were none. So he quickly pulled off the flannel shirt he was wearing over his tee-shirt, used it to wrap the head in—all the while not really believing he was doing this—and stalked off to find a phone to call the police about the woman's body. Then he had a head to turn in. No matter what else, he still had a bounty to claim, and, after all, the contract hadn't said anything about bringing him in alive. Or even whole.
The blond man heard the noises coming from the motel room he shared with his oldest friend, and a slow grin claimed his face as an idea came to mind. Quietly unlocking the door, the black-clad man suddenly flung it open.
"You two-timin' shit!" Chris yelled.
The man in the room yelped and tumbled out of bed in a flurry of sheets and blankets. The woman in the bed with him, also entangled, screeched, fell off the edge of the bed and landed on top of him. He frantically flung the sheets off himself, and scrambled for his clothes before finally registering who was in front of the now-closed door.
"Damn it all, Chris, ya like ta scare the livin' bejeebers outta me!"
"Well, that's what ya get for lettin' your guard down, pardner." The black-clad man said with a grin. "For all you know, I could'a been this young lady's husband, and then where would ya be?" The man on the floor did not deign to answer. Instead, he simply finished disentangling himself and the aforementioned lady and sorted out clothing. As he did so, Chris noticed how pale and sluggish the young woman was. Then he spotted the two puncture marks on her neck. 'At least he's fed tonight.' Chris thought. He watched hungrily as the woman fled the room while still slipping on clothing. He eyed her neck, and it took an obvious effort to resist the temptation. But no, she'd already been drained enough. They didn't kill when they fed. Best to let her go. Still, the hunger burned in Chris, and he abruptly turned away from her.
The other man had noticed the look, however.
"Here, pardner, feed." And he held out what looked like an ordinary wine bottle. The liquid inside, however, was thicker and darker than any ordinary wine. Chris eyed the bottle.
"Where'd you get this?" He asked.
"Earlier tonight I found a sweet young thang to contribute to our cause." At Chris's look, the mustached man added, "Don't worry, she'll be fine. Anyway, I figured you wouldn't have time to feed while tracking Eli Joe. Which, by the way, did you finally catch that son-of-a-bitch?" Chris drank deeply from the bottle before answering.
"Yeah, I did. But I wasn't the first. A bounty hunter caught up with him just after he'd gotten another victim."
"Didn't get bit or scratched, did he?"
"No, thank god." Chris told the other man with more than ordinary relief.
"Thank god?"
"Buck, the bounty hunter's name is Vin Tanner."
"What?" Buck said, eyes widening.
"Yeah. Looks like him, too. Talks like him, acts like— Hell, Buck, if our Vin Tanner hadn't died a hundred years ago, I'd've sworn it was really him." Chris finished, the grief still raw even after all these decades. Vin Tanner had been a younger brother to Chris in all but name. And when another bounty hunter had finally shot him and took him back to Tascosa for the money, Chris had been devastated. It had been as bad as the deaths of his wife and son, and the lapse in alertness that resulted had allowed a vampire to take him unawares. And Buck's attempt to save his oldest friend had only resulted in Buck himself being "brought over", too. And with the delicate balance between them irreparably upset, the rest of the men known as The Magnificent Seven had soon scattered to their own lives and fates. Even Buck and Chris hadn't stayed together, but had simply crossed paths on occasion over the decades, although they'd remained in touch—something that had gotten easier as communications technology had advanced.
Not knowing what else to say, Buck got back on the main topic.
"But you got him. Eli, I mean."
"Yeah, I got him. Grabbed the body so there'd be no evidence, but left the head so Vin could collect."
"You sure that was wise? Hell, for that matter, how much did he see, anyway?" Buck asked, concerned.
"Enough. But I don't think he'll say anything."
"Yeah, and why not?"
"Well, if he's anything like our Vin Tanner was, he'd be too practical. The man's dead, fee's collected, time to move on. Besides," Chris said with a weak grin, "who'd believe him?" Buck chuckled once, drily.
"So you're not gonna try to find him again?"
"Well... I didn't say that."
"Damn it all, Chris, you're gonna get us into a mess 'o trouble!"
"Well, you wouldn't want your life to get boring, would you?" Chris said with a more genuine grin. "Besides, if he's anything like our Vin Tanner, he'll be a perfect addition."
"Well, when you put it that way... "
The two men were not having a good day. First, the doctor's car had broken down, so the priest drove him to the hospital (he had to go anyway, he was on duty as hospital chaplain this day), then the ER was swamped when a multi-car pile-up on the interstate left 22 people injured and 3 people dead, and then, on the way home, the priest's car had broken down!
And now, 6'2" fifty-ish Father Josiah Sanchez, head priest of St. Peter of Alcantara Church, stood at the mouth of a garbage-strewn alley in Purgatorio, a bad section of town, and held the three vampires at bay with his cross, while dark-skinned Dr. Nathan Jackson, resident at Four Corners General Hospital, stayed behind him and searched frantically for a weapon. Doc Nathan didn't really want to hide behind the bigger man, but he had no other protection as the two men tried desperately to remember their vampire lore. Specifically, how to kill them.
"Uh, fire!" Doc Nathan remembered.
"Beheading." Fr. Josiah added
"Sunlight." Doc Nathan told him.
"Wooden stake through the heart." Fr. Josiah recited.
"Wasn't there a specific kind of wood?" Doc Nathan asked.
"Uh, yeah," Fr. Josiah answered after a second's thought. "Ash or Hawthorne."
"Ash!" Doc Nathan yelped triumphantly as he spotted the broken baseball bat in the alley. "Fr. Josiah, move left!" The priest accommodated the other man by backing up and moving rightward. "No, your other left!" Doc Nathan said frantically. Fr. Josiah switched directions. The hissing, clutching, fang-faced undead followed alertly, looking for any chance to defeat the priest's vigilant protection of himself and his companion. One vampire, a young woman in diaphanous blue, approached too close, and the big man slapped the cross onto her grasping hand. The spot where the cross touched smoked and sizzled, giving off a terrible stench as the vampire gave an earsplitting shriek and immediately backed off. Behind the priest, several loud thunks and some splintering noises echoed out of the alley.
"Hurry it up, Doc!" Fr. Josiah called. "The natives are restless. And hungry!"
Suddenly, Doc Nathan appeared around Fr. Josiah's right side and charged a vampire in a dark brown suit, using the momentum of his charge along with all the strength in both arms to drive a large splintered section of bat into the undead's chest. There was a ripping sound and a splintering sound, and the vampire instantly shriveled up and fell limply to the ground. Doc Nathan grabbed up another stake from the pile of three more at his feet, and impelled it into the female vampire with the cross-shape now burned into her hand. Two down, one to go, and Fr. Josiah had remembered something else that hurts vampires: Holy Water. He kept the cross up with one hand while scrabbling blindly in a pocket with the other. As Doc Nathan killed the second vampire, Fr. Josiah used his teeth to get the cap off the bottle and threw it's contents into the face of the third vampire. That vampire, a female in yellow, let loose a gurgling scream that dissolved along with her face. Doc Nathan staked her easily with his third shard of wood.
It took a second for it to sink in that there were no more vampires. They'd won.
Doc Nathan let out a "Whoop!" of triumph, while the muscular priest grinned broadly and slapped the dark-skinned doctor on the back, nearly knocking him over in his enthusiasm.
"We did it!" Fr. Josiah crowed.
"Yeah, but what did we do?" Doc Nathan baited, his scientific mind-set kicking back in again.
"We killed three vam— oh." Fr. Josiah said, suddenly realizing. "Uh, I never really believed vampires exist. Um, til now, I guess." The big man finished uncertainly. "But how else do you explain it?" And he pointed at the shriveled remains of the bodies as evidence. Doc Nathan crouched down and examined them for a long moment without touching them or removing the stake. He looked up at Fr. Josiah.
"I guess you got a point there, Father." He conceded. "So what do we do now?"
"Behead these three, then get to that bar and call a tow truck, that's what we do."
"Sounds good to me. I don't wanna spend one minute more in this part 'o town than we have to." Doc Nathan unsheathed the throwing knife that Fr. Josiah knew he carried with him all the time, and skillfully used it to quickly sever the heads from the vampires. Then, he grabbed a half-full book of matches off the ground, and used it to burn the bodies. They couldn't just dump the bodies in the dumpster—they'd be too likely to be found and examined for forensic evidence. So they burned the bodies and heads and dumped the ashes down a nearby sewer grate. With the two working together, it only took a few minutes (the vampires burned like dry leaves). Then the two men walked towards the bar down the street—moving a bit more briskly than before they'd met the vampires.
Pre-occupied as they were, the two men on the ground didn't see the three bats hanging upside-down from the eves of the building beside which they'd fought.
"Well, now do you believe me, pard?" The black bat said to the brown one next to him.
"Well, dang, they do look jes' like 'em, don't they?" The brown bat replied.
"But that still doesn't mean they are the reincarnations of the men you knew." The other brown bat (the one on the end) said.
"Yeah, they are." The black bat replied confidently. "Vin says they are, anyways, and I learned a hundred years ago to always trust his hunches, and this time, he's even more psychic than he was then."
"Chris, I still think Vin's a little touched in the head." The brown bat next to the black one said. Chris tried to hide his dismay. Vin had revealed his problem in confidence, but anyone really observing the Texan would realize sooner or later that something was... different about him. Something other than the psychic talents, and not as beneficial to Vin's well-being. Still, Chris had promised not to share the confidence, and he always tried his best to keep his promises.
"Well, how would you like it, if you were just minding your own business, and you find out the hard way the guy you're hunting is a damn werewolf!" The black bat replied indignantly. "Hell, he's lucky I was there to help him, otherwise he'd be dead right now."
"Or another werewolf." The brown bat on the end added.
"Damn it, Gabe, don't you encourage him!" The brown bat in the middle said to the one on the end.
"That's Gabriel." The British-born bat corrected with an exasperated sigh. 'These Americans.' He huffed mentally. "And I was not encouraging him, I was merely agreeing with his recitation of the event."
"Jeez, man, you sound just like Ezra with those ten-dollar words!" Buck told Gabriel.
"Thirty-dollar words." Gabriel corrected. "Inflation." Chris rolled his eyes.
"Can we get back on track here?" He continued doggedly. "Even if Vin's wrong and these guys aren't the reincarnations of Nathan and Josiah, they still saw too much, and handled themselves real well. They even remembered to behead them and burn them without removing the stakes. And I still think they'd make great additions to our team."
"Well, that's true." Buck replied. "So how ya gonna approach 'em?"
"Well, not here, anyway." Chris told the other two vampires. "We'll follow them home, and approach them there tomorrow night."
"Sounds good." Buck said. Gabriel nodded agreement.
"Join a what?" Dr. Nathan Jackson asked. Gabriel Winston and Chris Larabee sat in the living room of the spacious home he shared with his wife, Rain, who was a pediatrician, and their infant son, Clive. Rain had the evening shift at the hospital, so Doc Natha
n had invited Fr. Josiah over to watch the football game. Clive was already in bed. The kid could sleep through anything, thank god.
Their viewer ship had been interrupted by the arrival of the two men, however, who had an interesting proposal.
"We want you to join a team whose purpose is to solve problems and crimes of a supernatural, paranormal, or extra-terrestrial nature." Gabriel explained.
"What, like the Ghostbusters or something?" Fr. Josiah asked.
"Sorta like that." Chris replied. "More like X-Files meets the Ghostbusters and Men in Black, really, because we're actually a secret branch of the FBI called Bureau 13."
"And there's a big problem with that kind of thing in Four Corners, is there?" Fr. Josiah asked as though humoring a psychotic.
"Four Corners," Gabriel told him, "has been a center of problems for a long time—"
"Which was why The Magnificent Seven were needed here so badly." Chris mentioned.
"Er, yeah." Gabriel continued. "But, recently, these problems have become more and more of a paranormal nature. To the point where Oren Travis, an Assistant Director of the Rapid Deployment Logistics Unit for Bureau 13, has authorized the formation of a Rapid Deployment Team here."
"It's not just for Four Corners, though." Chris took up the narrative. "It's also supposed to be for as much of the surrounding area as we can manage. It'll be answerable to Director Travis, who'll authorize our finances."
"You mean the FBI would pay us?" Doc Nathan said.
"Yeah." Chris replied. "Along with providing the equipment we need, like weapons, tools, vehicles. Stuff like that."
"But why us?" Doc Nathan asked.
"Because you handled the vampire situation so well." Chris replied.
"You saw that? And you didn't try to help? You sons-a—" Doc Nathan started up angrily, but Gabriel pushed him easily back down onto the couch. At the same time, Chris explained, "You didn't need our help. If you had, we would have."
"Would you?" Doc Nathan challenged.
"Yes." Chris answered him honestly, staring straight into Doc Nathan's eyes. Apparently, the doctor found in the gaze what he needed, because, after a moment, the doctor subsided.
"Ok," Doc Nathan said. "So, why us? Why don't you just flashy-thing us and be done with it?" Gabriel rolled his eyes. Chris chuckled.
"We don't flashy-thing people." Gabriel replied with exaggerated patience. "We try to prevent anyone from seeing anything to begin with. Failing that, we try to give a rational explanation."
"And failing that, we recruit them to help." Chris added.
"You have anybody else for this team yet?" Fr. Josiah asked.
Chris held up three fingers. "Myself, my friend Buck Wilmington, and an ex-bounty hunter named Vin Tanner. Vin is a psychic." But Chris didn't tell them that he and Buck—and Gabriel—were vampires. His plan was to let them recover from the previous vampire incident before presenting them with more. However, the best laid plans...
"And what about you?" Fr. Josiah asked Gabriel.
"I'm a vampire." Gabriel told him right out. Chris groaned in exasperation.
"A—" Doc Nathan stuttered.
"Vampire." Gabriel finished for him. "A good vampire, actually." Gabriel hastened to assure the men when he saw them both stiffen in apprehension. " I've worked for Bureau 13 since nineteen sixty-two. Chris and Buck are vampires, also, but they're much newer to the Bureau, and so I'm just along for advice on how to form and equip a team. Then I'll be going back to my own team in Detroit."
Fr. Josiah glanced at Doc Nathan.
"We'll have to talk about this." The dark-skinned doctor told the two vampires.
"Fair enough." Chris said. "Here's the number to the motel we're staying at. Give us a call."
"You're staying in a motel?" Fr. Josiah asked, puzzled. "I thought you stayed in coffins or something."
"That's just for Dracula-type vampires." Gabriel replied as the two vampires got up to leave. "We're Parriot Vampires. We can sleep anywhere as long as it's protected from sunlight."
Once outside, Chris confronted the other vampire.
"Why the hell'd you tell them about us? Like that's something they needed to hear right now?"
"Oh," Gabriel gave right back to him, "And when would you have told them? When they saw you drinking blood? Or would you have tried to keep it a secret? That's a wonderful way to instill trust in your subordinates; by not trusting them as your first act as their commander—even before you are their commander!" Chris stalked away a few steps, but couldn't help thinking about what Gabriel had said. When is the right time to tell someone something like that? Best to do so immediately, instead of waiting—and then the wait is thought of as a lack of trust. Yes, Gabriel was right, although he might have handled it better. Chris stalked back to the Britisher, and got up into his face.
"Well, did you have to just blurt it out like that? Ya couldn'ta done it so as not ta frighten them, could ya? They already ran into vampires that tried to drain 'em dry, how else would they think of us?" Gabriel, about to say something, hesitated. He thought about it.
"I'm sorry, you're right. And they're not my team anyway, they're yours. I should have discussed it with you first, and you should have been the one to tell them. But it's done now." Gabriel switched mental gears and got back to the more important topic. "Do you think they'll join?"
"Yeah, I do. They'll feel an obligation to help others, just like way back when I first knew 'em."
"I hope so."
Argument over, Chris just grinned, flung an arm around the other man's shoulders, and together they stalked off.
John "JD" Dunne exited the bus carrying his laptop computer, his cat carrier, and with a backpack full of clothes. It was all he owned in the world
He walked from the bus station to the nearest cheap motel and checked in.
JD didn't know why he'd come to Four Corners, except that it wasn't Pittsburgh. To him, Pittsburgh was dirty and smelly and had nothing to offer a nineteen-year-old with M.A.'s in Electronic Engineering and Computer Science and a penchant for excitement. Pittsburgh was also where his mother had died, so it held bad memories, too.
JD made sure his small orange and white tabby cat, Cuervo, was comfortably ensconced before leaving the room in search of a bar. He didn't know what the legal drinking age in this state was, and didn't really care. He just wanted to be with people.
JD walked three blocks before coming to a bar that looked ok. Upon entering, he could see that it wasn't some dive that spelled trouble. In fact, it looked generally like a nice, neighborhood bar, although the group at the dart-board in the far corner included some unsavory-looking types. Curious, JD wandered on over.
There, a sharply-dressed man with keen green eyes was playing darts against a weaselly-looking little pipsqueak with greasy brown hair. At the moment, Sharp Dresser seemed to be losing.
"I knew that I should not have bet against the house expert." Sharp Dresser enunciated with exaggerated care in the manner of a man who was drunk and over-compensating. His speech had a marked southern accent. "Gambling will be my downfall, someday. And today could be that day." And he swayed where he stood, finally resorting to catching himself on the nearest chair-back to steady himself.
"Double or nuthin'!" The weaselly man slurred, also obviously drunk. "Or are you shome kinda panshy coward shum-bitch?" He taunted. Sharp Dresser straightened indignantly and threw some money onto the table.
"I resent the implication." Sharp Dresser replied. "Double or nothing it is." He picked up three darts—and immediately stabbed himself with one of them, to the amusement of the onlookers. "I fear my co-ordination has suffered somewhat as a result of the concoctions I have consumed since my arrival on the premises."
"Wha'd he say?" A drunken onlooker asked dumbly.
"He's drunk too much and it's making him clumsy." JD translated.
But JD and the hovering onlookers weren't the only ones curious about the goings-on at the dart-board.
"Jesus, it's Ezra." Buck whispered to Chris. Chris, startled, could only nod. They'd decided they weren't going to tell the others about the reincarnation theory, simply because they didn't see what good it would do. Vin had agreed.
All five men plus Gabriel Winston were sitting in another corner of the bar, just relaxing. They'd accomplished a lot in the three months since Doc Nathan and Fr. Josiah had joined them. With Gabriel Winston's help, Chris Larabee had circumnavigated the treacherous waters of the sea of red tape involved in getting the things they needed to set up their team. Now they had their vehicles and equipment, and had set themselves up in a two-story warehouse that took up one whole city block. The first floor had the garage where their vehicles were kept (including Buck's original 1957 Chevy convertible, and a team RV), and a "work area" which included a laboratory, a shooting range with an armory off of it, a tiny infirmary, a tiny chapel, and office space. The second floor contained sleeping accommodations that were set up like small one-bedroom apartments with a bedroom, tiny living-room area and bathroom. There was also a common area with communal kitchen and diningroom, and a big TV/game room. At this point, only Doc Nathan and Fr. Josiah weren't living there, for obvious reasons. Even Gabriel was now ensconced there for the rest of his stay.
Although they frequently spent Friday nights at a bar called "Inez's" just two blocks from the warehouse, tonight Vin had led them farther afield. And now they knew why. For here was not only Ezra Standish, but, just a few minutes ago, who should saunter in but JD Dunne. If he hadn't been a believer before, Buck now figured that maybe there really was something to this reincarnation crap. There was no other way to explain the incredible similarities—both physical and in personality—of the men they were recruiting, to those of the men they'd known a hundred years ago. And for them all to gather in Four Corners... well, that was just more than Buck was willing to put down to coincidence.
At any rate, they all watched as the bets were made, and the weaselly man put two darts into the bull's eye and one into the green ring around the bull's eye. By the cheers that went up, they evidently weren't playing a regular dart game. Instead, they were going for the crude "get as close to the bull's eye as possible" routine.
Then Ezra stood up (well, stood-listing-to-starboard), took careful aim, and hit the bull's eye.
"How much you wanna bet he's a hustler?" Vin asked Doc Nathan.
"No way, man, that's a sucka bet." Doc Nathan replied. He may not have known that he knew Ezra in a previous life, but, being a connoisseur of throwing blades and techniques himself, he could spot a hustler when he saw one. The man could probably put a dart wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He was just playing the amateur.
And sure enough, the sharply-dressed man put all three darts in the bull's eye.
"Well, imagine that." He said, amazed. "I've never done that before." And he went to collect his winnings. As he grabbed at the money, however, a hairy hand slammed down onto the bills, effectively pinning them in place—and almost crushing the smaller man's hand in the process.
"Cheater!" The big, burly owner of the hairy hand grunted.
"I assure you, there was no treachery involved here, good sir." Ezra said sincerely.
"Hey, you sure sobered up fast." One of the onlookers observed suspiciously.
"Threats of bodily harm will do that to a person." Ezra replied innocently. But the big, burly man was having none of it. He was sure that Ezra had cheated, and, in his drunken state, nothing was going to keep him from exacting punishment.
However, the method of that punishment was not the physical assault that the other patrons of the bar were expecting. Instead, the man raised his arms and began chanting in a language none of them could understand.
None of them, that is, except JD. JD alone recognized the chant as the beginnings of a magical attack. Thinking quickly, JD spotted a candle on the table beside him. It wasn't one of his blessed candles, but it would have to do. He grabbed it, and spoke several words in another language while pushing through the crowd to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the sharply dressed man. The magical attack was launched—to splash in the visible light range upon the magical shield JD had put up.
Chris Larabee and the others sat bolt upright in astonishment. Then, without really stopping to think about it, but only acting on instincts a hundred years old, Chris launched himself into the crowd with the intent of rescuing "his" men—even if they weren't really, anymore. Or yet. Whatever. With an exasperated snort, Buck bolted up to follow, with the other members of "Team Larabee" and Gabriel close behind.
An old-fashioned, knock-down, drag-out of a bar-room brawl ensued, as Team Larabee enthusiastically laid into the angry onlookers. Chris punched a man in the stomach, and, when he doubled over, followed through with an uppercut that laid him out on his back on the floor. Meanwhile, Buck struck another man with a right cross. The glass-jawed man went down and Buck shook his hand painfully for a second. To Buck's right, Fr. Josiah grabbed a third man by the shirt collar and belt, picked him up and threw him. He struck two other men and all three went down. By this time, Doc Nathan and Gabriel had grabbed Ezra and JD and hustled them out of the bar. Chris and the others followed.
Outside in the parking lot, Ezra brushed himself off.
"I am most appreciative to you fellows for your timely intervention." He stated. "However, I do have a question. Just what in perdition happened!?"
Chris looked at Buck, who shook his head. Not that it mattered, Buck knew. Chris would do what he wanted anyway.
"Gentlemen," He said, including JD in his statement, "I have a proposal for you... "
And then they were seven.
Vin stood looking out the window of the TV/game room of the warehouse JD was calling "Valhalla". The dark-haired computer whiz had moved in the day after the bar fight, eager to help—and wanting excitement. And what was more exciting than fighting evil demons and werewolves and stuff?
JD didn't know about the reincarnation part, and, as with Doc Nathan and Fr. Josiah, those in the know had decided not to tell either JD or Ezra, and for the same reason.
But Vin was beginning to regret knowing about it himself. Not because he didn't like knowing he was once a bounty hunter in the Old West, but because he didn't know what to do about his relationship with Chris and Buck. He knew he'd known them then, but had no memories of it. On the other hand, Chris and Buck did. And Vin knew it was hard on the two vampires—Chris, especially, who kept forgetting and making references to people and events the "other" Vin would have remembered, but "this" one didn't. Vin could see the hurt in Chris's eyes whenever something like that happened to remind the blond man of the way things had been; the strong relationship "that" Vin had had with Chris that "this" one didn't, yet, even with the deep connection they'd already made. It also confused the hell out of everyone.
Vin watched, emotions in a turmoil, as a black corvette coupe drove up to the gate. Having seen it at the bar, Vin knew it was Ezra's. He went to the intercom/phone on an end table beside an overstuffed arm chair in front of the TV, and buzzed Chris's office.
"Ezra's here." The Texan told the vampire.
"Good." The reply came back. "Buck's over there, I'll ask him to take care of 'im."
Buck received the call with unease. Ezra had always been the least open and honest of the group, and he didn't know "this" one well enough to know if it still held true.
He had to admit, though, the hustler had really come through for them that night at the bar. After very little explanation, he'd thought their way out of the dilemma they'd found themselves in, specifically, what to do with a bar full of people who'd just seen something they shouldn't have: a magical attack and JD's defense against it. Ezra had, after a moment's thought, suggested a simple—if expensive—solution.
He'd picked the lock into the storage room in the back of the bar, while JD had quickly been familiarized with the team RV's document forger, courtesy of Gabriel Winston. Upon his return, Ezra had informed the group, among other things, that the mage that attacked him had disappeared. Then Doc Nathan and Gabriel, the two least likely to be recognized by the bar patrons (and Doc Nathan also because his medical background would provide a lot of jargon he could throw at the bartender. Not that the bartender would understand... ), had gone in as health inspectors. They'd told the bartender that a parasite had contaminated some grain that had then been made into vodka before anyone had discovered it. The contamination caused fumes from the alcohol to result in mass hallucinations. They'd rattled off the lot number for the vodka in the bar's storage room as being the tainted batch, and had confiscated it. Bureau 13 would, Gabriel had told the team members, reimburse the bar owner, in the name of the manufacturer, for the "recalled" alcohol.
It had been, they all had to admit, a clever solution. Even Buck had reluctantly admitted they could use creativity like that on their team. He just hoped "this" Ezra never ran out on them or betrayed them. There were some very powerful evil beings out there with the resources to tempt even the best of men. And "that" Ezra hadn't been the best of men. Finally, knowing Chris better than to think that his memories of the "other" Ezra were the only things on which he was basing his decision to invite the man onto the team, Buck just figured to hell with it, and decided to let "this" Ezra's actions speak for themselves. Time would tell.
Buck punched the remote control that opened the gate as well as the garage door. The black corvette drove smoothly in. There was plenty of room, as Doc Nathan, and Fr. Josiah were out, at the moment, JD didn't even have a vehicle, and Gabriel had flown in (on an airplane), so he was without a vehicle, too. That left Buck's Chevy convertible, Chris's Black Dodge Ram truck, Vin's beat-up Ford Falcon, and the team's 31 ft. Jamboree RV in an area big enough to accommodate probably ten vehicles. The corvette maneuvered easily over to the right far wall and parked with the wall on one side, and Buck's Chevy on the other.
Ezra didn't know why he'd agreed to this whole thing. Yes, it was true he had no better prospects going at the moment except small-time hustles, but this... this Ghostbusting stuff? At first, he'd agreed just for shits and giggles, and, he had to admit, the little scam with the "tainted" vodka had been an interesting challenge, but in the past week, as he'd spoken with Chris and the other members of the team to make arrangements and get a more complete picture of the situation, he'd realized that these men were deadly serious about the whole thing. There really were evil beings walking the earth doing nasty things to people—and Team Larabee was charged with stopping them; "protecting the innocent", as it were. And was that really what Ezra wanted to do? But what else was there? What else did his future hold? Petty con after petty con, staying one step ahead of the angry marks and the police? Constantly disappointing his mother, Maude, who was a swindler extra-ordinaire, and who thought he could do so much better? Or was that why he didn't do so much better, because maybe it wasn't what he wanted to do at all? That last was the thought that had come to him suddenly last night, while sorting through what possessions he had in the expensive hotel room he'd been staying in only because of a con he'd run a dozen times. A con his mother had taught him as a child. Well, had taught him when she was with him, anyway. Mostly, he'd been raised by Uncles and Aunts and Family Friends who mostly didn't really want him anyway, but had been sweet-talked into it by Maude. And maybe that was part of why he'd agreed to this insanity. Because they wanted him there, unlike so many people in his life. They needed him. Ezra rarely felt needed, except when Maude wanted to use him for a con. But these men had given him the impression that it was more than that. It was warriors standing side by side against a common foe. And Ezra couldn't help but want that comradery. It was something he'd never had before, and, instead of needing people less for the lack of them; instead of enjoying being a loner as well as being used to it, Ezra actually craved friendship more; was envious of friends who could kid each other and argue, but still stand by each other no matter what. He wanted that. And these men—could they provide it? Only time would tell. And, in the meantime, the thought of protecting people was novel, to say the least. The others seemed to set great store by it. Ezra had never seen the sense in that attitude, probably because he'd been taught from early on that "a sucker is born every day". He never saw people as anything but suckers. Or as having an ulterior motive designed to get what they wanted, no matter how it hurt others. Except maybe the children. In their innocence and love, he saw something he never had. Something he should have had. Something no child should have taken from him too soon. And, in the end, Ezra decided to do it because he wouldn't wish his life on anyone, and figured, this way, he might stop it from happening to someone else.
And so, here he was, moving in with men he didn't even know, on the off chance it would turn into something good. Only time would tell.
JD was in seventh heaven. At the moment, he was on a Bureau computer, familiarizing himself with the main database in Washington, D.C. Practically the minute he set foot in the warehouse, the young computer genius had headed straight for the computer. In the past week, he'd done all the necessary preliminary stuff involved with getting them set up and running; making sure the team members were all "official" in D.C.; getting security clearances registered, passwords recorded, etc. He'd also discovered several bugs in the system that he'd fixed, and put up some better security such as firewalls and whatnot.
Now, he was just kind of rooting around, looking for anything interesting that the team might want to look into in the area. As a whole, the Bureau had a lot of information about the paranormal. An almost ridiculous amount, in fact. Some of it so obscure that it made JD wonder why on earth they bothered gathering it. Who would ever need to know the wording, translated into English, of an exorcism ritual not used by the Catholic Church in 500 years? Or the difference between a Siberian were-Husky and an Alaskan were-Malamute? At any rate, he'd already discovered what Gabriel had told Doc Nathan and Fr. Josiah about the rising amount of paranormal problems around, and was now trying to get more information. Then he'd organize and prioritize according to time frame and seriousness of the problem, and submit it to Chris as a "to do" list. Chris, when JD had told him what he was doing, had approved it.
JD had just finished gathering what information he could about a rather nasty nest of what looked to be Dark Elves, when his alarm alerted him to something.
He'd set a search for anything in the records pertaining to recent, pending, and/or strong activity in Four Corners itself. Now, the search seemed to have yielded results. JD accessed the record. It seemed to be an old prophesy regarding "Children of the Night who walk in the sun". It involved an old Roman Catholic relic of some kind, and it was supposed to happen... JD took a look at the information again. Uh, alignment of the stars and planets along with phases of the moon; earth coordinates in latitude and longitude...
"Oh, shit." JD breathed. If his calculations were correct, the prophesy was supposed to be fulfilled... tonight, in Four Corners! "Uh, oh!" JD muttered, searching for everything he could find. He paled when he read the information on the screen. JD hurriedly printed it all out, practically tore it out of the printer, and ran headlong to Chris's office.
"Chris, we got a biiiig problem!"
They were all gathered in a conference room off Chris's office. Well, all but Fr. Josiah, anyway. They hadn't been able to get ahold of him. They had, however, left messages at the rectory and on his cell phone.
"Guys, we got ourselves a big problem." Chris began. "Seems there's an old prophesy supposed to be fulfilled in Four Corners tonight. Apparently, there's this old cross called the Cross of Berziers. Supposedly, the Steakley/Carpenter Vampires came into being when this cross was used in a really nasty version of an exorcism. Except the ritual went wrong, somehow, and created the first Steakley/Carpenter Vampire outta some old priest named Valek. Well, a few years ago, Valek got ahold of the cross and tried to finish the ritual, which, apparently, would allow him and all his "children" to walk in the daylight."
"Oh hell!" Nathan exclaimed.
"Just the Steakley/Carpenter ones, or all of us?" Buck asked. Chris shook his head.
"According to the Bureau's information, not all of us, but the vampires that are demon-based, like the Steakley/Carpenters and the Whedons and the Children of Akasha." He answered.
"Well, that sounds like a cause for celebration!" Ezra said sarcastically.
"Quite." Gabriel added
"Certainly makes my day." JD muttered.
"Anyway, the ritual failed due to the intervention of what was left of Team Crow—"
"Another Bureau 13 Team?" Doc Nathan wondered.
"No." Chris answered. "They were vampire slayers who worked for the Roman Catholic Church, answering directly to the Pope. They'd been pretty much wiped out by Valek, but the survivors managed to stop the ritual. The cross then disappeared again for four, five years, when another vampire, some Uma chick, tried it just a couple of months ago. She failed, too, thank god, and was killed by Team Bliss, a bunch of slayers with the Van Helsing Group."
"But now, somebody's gonna try it again, is that it?" Buck said.
"Yeah, tonight, if JD's calculations are right, and I think they are. And it looks like this time the ritual might work."
"Because of this prophesy?" Vin asked doubtfully.
"Because according to the prophesy, the planetary alignments have to be right or something. That might be why Uma failed. Anyway, we also have coordinates of where to look, and it's not too far from here, so it looks like this is gonna be the first official mission for Team Larabee. I've already notified Bureau 13 headquarters about what we're doing—and what could happen if we fail."
"I would venture to say they did not engage in joyous celebration at the news." Ezra remarked.
"To say the least." Chris commented wryly. "At any rate, they figure we can handle it. Not that there's a lot of choice in the matter. We're the only team in any position to do anything in time. There aren't many of the Steakley/Carpenter slayers around anymore—I guess these guys are about the toughest vampires to kill, so the slayers get killed or go crazy eventually. Anyway, they can't get anybody here in time, although they forwarded all the information they had on these guys. And we've tried to contact Buffy Summers, the Chosen Vampire Slayer, since she's the one destined to fight against the Whedon Vampires, but we haven't been able to make contact with her or any of her people. There seems to be something else going on in Sunnydale. We tried Angel Investigations in L.A., too, but no one answered the phone. Problem is, we don't have time for anything else because the ritual is supposed to be performed at dawn. So we're on our own. And, in case we fail, all the other teams are preparing for the worst. Anyway, I want everybody to check out the information JD came up with, and brush up on Steakley/Carpenter, Whedon, and Akasha's. Then, we want to gather all our vampire-slaying equipment and load up the RV. We're gonna set up a command post near these coordinates, and do some recon to see just what we're up against, here. Any questions?"
"Yeah, Chris," Doc Nathan asked. "Are you, Buck and Gabriel gonna be all right with this? I mean, this could mean vampires aren't limited to the night anymore. I would think you'd be for that." Chris took a deep breath.
"First of all," he said, "the nature of those vampires makes it impossible for them to be anything but evil—except Angel, of course—and I, for one, have no wish to see any of them walkin' around wreaking havoc in the daylight when we can't protect anybody. And second, the ritual wouldn't help us any, so we'd probably be given a choice: obey the Daywalkers, or die. And frankly, I don't plan on doin' either one. Answer your question, Doc?"
"Yeah, Chris, it does. And I'm right proud to serve with ya's."
The flickering torchlight illuminated the enormous cavern in shifting patterns of orange and shadow-black. Gabriel, Buck and Chris hung from the ceiling, outside the circle of light cast by the flames. They were the only ones able to do the reconnaissance because the vampires would have been able to sense the presence of any mortals. So they'd assumed bat form to infiltrate the cavern, just outside Four Corners, that JD had detected with the side-looking radar in the RV. Gabriel had commented that he did recon like this a lot.
"I think I spend more time as a bat than I do in human form." Had been his comment. "I've even been a bat hood-ornament on a car. Hell, one of my team-mates got me a little bat-sized leather jacket that says "Bloodsucker" in red sequins on the back, and a little helmet to go with it!"
"Oh, shit, Chris, I think we're really in it now." Buck squeaked now to his oldest friend.
"Hell, yeah." Chris could only agree. Gabriel said nothing, too stunned to speak. They were all looking down. Into a cavern as big as a football stadium.
Filled with probably a thousand vampires of a dozen breeds.
Chris activated a subcutaneous transceiver.
"Doc Nathan, come in."
"Here, Chris, whatcha got?"
"Trouble. With a capital T-R-O-U-B-L-E. There're prob'ly a thousand vampires here. They're mostly Steakley/Carpenters, and a boatload of Whedons, but we've also spotted Akasha's Children and some Perriots and Nosferatu's and Dracula's and even a couple of Ch'iang Shih—"
Doc Nathan, out in the RV with JD while Vin and Ezra were patrolling the perimeter (they still hadn't been able to get ahold of Fr. Josiah), listened to the recitation with mounting horror. A thousand vampires?
"There've never been that many vampires in one place at one time in history, that we know of." Gabriel finally found his voice. "And certainly, not that many different breeds. They must really be confident this time."
"Or they want to make really sure nobody can stop them this time." Doc Nathan replied. "Chris, you probably should just get back here so we can figure out what to do. Chris? Uh, Buck? Hey, Gabriel. Hey, anybody! Answer me!" But, as the seconds passed with no answer from any of the three vampires, Doc Nathan and JD began to become frantic. Just as Doc Nathan was preparing to go in after them, however, Chris came back online.
"Uh, guys, we seem to have another problem." Doc Nathan and JD glanced uneasily at each other.
"What's that?" JD asked, thinking, 'Like we don't already have enough problems?'
"They've got Father Josiah."
Meanwhile, a stocky, dark-haired young man, a red-haired young woman with a doleful expression, and a teen-aged girl with long brown hair tried to creep stealthily through the now-dark woods. However, it wasn't anywhere near stealthily enough to fool the children of the night.
Five vampires silently surrounded the trio of humans, all emerging from the shadows of the trees simultaneously. Quickly, the humans took a back-to-back-to-back stance, holding their stakes threateningly in the air. However, one of the vampires was like nothing they knew. They'd neither heard of nor seen such a creature as this green-skinned being before.
"Uh, Wil," the stocky young man said, "any idea what that one is?"
"Not a clue, I'm afraid." The red-head replied. "I've never come across it in any of the literature. Of course, I haven't exactly read everything either. Just... just the stuff that... you know, was about stuff we've fought, cause... cause I really didn't have time to... "
"Ok, Wil," the teen-aged girl said, exasperated. "We get the picture."
Suddenly, one of the vampires attacked! The vampire, dressed in a varsity jacket, hit the young man, the weight of the vampire knocking him to the ground. He lost his stake, but Wil still had her stake, and ran Varsity Jacket through from behind. The creature instantly turned to dust. The young man scrabbled for a second, found his stake, and climbed to his feet again, just as Dawn was backed screaming into a tree. She was swinging with her stake, but the vampire was too close, and she couldn't get any leverage. The young man was the one that took this one out, but it didn't turn to dust, merely shriveled up and collapsed. The young man stared for just a second. Then Wil screamed, and the young man grabbed his stake and started to pull it free.
"No!" A male voice yelled. Suddenly, gunshots roared through the night. The two "regular-looking" vampires were hit and went down, but the green-skinned one was tougher.
"Ah, shit!" The long-haired man hefting the shot-gun swore. "Somebody, I need to know how to kill the green-skinned vampires! And I need to know it now!" He yelled, seemingly to no one in particular, as the green-skinned creature ran towards the man.
"With this!" A shorter man in a suit answered him, stepping out from behind a tree and dowsing Green-Skin with a liquid. Green-skin immediately began to smoke and dissolve.
"Ezra? What was that?" Shot-gun toter said, stunned.
"That, my dear Mr. Tanner, was a Ch'iang Shih. An Asian vampire. They exhale a poisonous vapor, much like Mr. Dunne after tonight's succulent gourmet meal of Mexican take-out." The sharply-dressed man replied. "One of the few substances which will defeat them is, ironically, also poison. Which you would have known if you had studied tonight as the rest of us did." Actually, Ezra had been a little surprised that Vin hadn't studied the information JD had gleaned. Yes, of course making sure one's weapons were in good working order was important, but information was the most important thing one can have in any battle. Ezra had figured Vin too practical and smart to forego such a thing, and he resolved to find out why as soon as possible. It would never do to have someone at your back in a fight who was ill prepared for the battle.
"Huh." Was Vin's only response before confronting the three young people.
"Ok, who are you and jest what are you doin' out here, anyways?"
"Uh, I don't mean to be ungrateful," the young man said, "but I don't think it's any of your business what we're doing out here—"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Xander," the teen-aged girl said, exasperated, "obviously they know about vampires, they just killed three of them!"
"Well, yeah, I guess that's true." The man conceded.
"We're trying to find our friend." The red-head said. "She was kidnaped two days ago, and the prophesy said she'd be here, and so we—"
"Prophesy!?" Vin and Ezra said together.
"This particular prophesy, was it regarding the use of an ancient Catholic relic in order to effect the transformation of vampires from nocturnal to diurnal?" Ezra asked.
"Huh?" The three young people said, confused.
"Is this prophesy about turning vampires into Daywalkers?" Vin asked.
"Uh, yeah! You know it?" The brown-haired teenager asked hopefully.
"Indeed. That is the reason for our presence here. Who exactly is it you're looking for?"
Chris had seen someone in priestly garb; someone of a frighteningly familiar size and build, and had flapped down for a closer look. Now he sat, perched on a rock outcropping. He looked closely at the man chained to the rock. He seemed to be barely conscious, slumped forward as far as possible with his wrists shackled. Only the occasional movement of a limb indicated his status as still-among-the-living.
Chris transformed back into his human form and stealthily edged over to the big priest.
"Father Josiah." He whispered. Fr. Josiah's head lolled, then jerked upward. It took a second for him to focus. Chris wondered if he was drugged. It would certainly explain how the vampires had managed to overcome the big priest and not leave any marks that Chris could see.
Fr. Josiah's eyes widened as he realized who it was.
"Chris." He whispered in a slurred voice, surprised and relieved. "All these vampires, they're going to—"
"Yeah, Father, we know all about the Cross of Berziers and the ritual. I'm gonna get you outta here, and then we're gonna—" But Fr. Josiah interrupted him.
"Chris, ne..need the g-girl, too." Chris looked around, but didn't see any other prisoners.
"What girl?" He asked. Fr. Josiah gestured with a tilt of his chin. Chris looked—across the cavern, where a petite young blonde woman with an aura of power he could feel from here, stood, practically mummified in heavy chains. "Who is she?"
"Don' know." Fr. Josiah slurred. "Bu' she's real import'nt. They wan' 'er here real bad." Chris activated the transceiver again, and brought everyone up to date. "I don't know who this girl is, but—"
"We do." Vin replied. There was a moment of silence from the other end.
"You do?"
"Yeah, we got her friends here." He glanced at each one in turn. "Xander Harris." He was a stocky, dark-haired young man with an innocent face. "Willow Rosenberg." She was a red-head with a mournful expression. "And her sister, Dawn Summers." Dawn was fourteen, with long, brown hair.
"Summers?" Chris asked with a sinking feeling.
"Yeah, Chris, as in Buffy Summers. The Slayer. They found out about the prophesy, and came looking for her."
"Oh, shit." Chris said, remembering part of the ritual JD had downloaded. It required not just the cross, and a priest, but also the blood of a slayer. And who better than the Slayer? "Oh, shit son-of-a-bitch!" Chris swore as he realized the implications.
"Yeah, Chris. Vin agreed wholeheartedly.
"Ok, here's what we're gonna do." Chris began intently. "I'm gonna get Father Josiah outta here. Gabriel, you get the girl. Buck, you try for the cross. Worse comes to worse, Buck, destroy that damned cross and be done with it. We'll get out any way we can, and meet up with you back at the RV, and come up with a plan of action. If we're not there in two hours, find a way to destroy the whole damn shootin' match. Hell, even if we do make it out, we'll probably have to blow this place anyway, just 'cause it's too good a target not to as much as because they'll try to find a way to try this again if they fail tonight. I can't remember if the prophesy said the ritual won't work any other time, but I don't wanna take any chances."
"But, Chris," JD objected, "we don't have anything powerful enough to blow up a whole mountain!"
"Well, we'll just—"
"Excuse me," Gabriel interrupted, "but even if we don't, I know of someone who does. He's a legendary Bureau 13 member, no longer part of a team, but working independently. His name is JP Withers. Call this number—" And the vampire rattled off a phone number, "and leave a detailed message on the machine stating what you need. Don't wait for a call back, though. JP Withers is rather... um... eccentric since the Massacre of '77."
"Well, then, how will we know he got the message?" JD wondered.
"When the mountain blows up." Gabriel told him.
"Oh." JD said.
"Problem is, you never know when he's going to get the message. Could be in an hour, or could be next week."
"Terrific. So what do we do if it isn't til next week?"
"We come up with Plan C."
"Hey, wait a minute. What happened to Plan B?" Xander asked.
"Actually," Buck interjected, "Plan A was the one we were going to implement before we found out how many vampires there are. This is Plan B."
"Actually, any Plan B involving JP Withers is a bad plan. Maybe we should just move on to Plan C." Gabriel wondered thoughtfully.
"But Plan B was your idea!" Willow Rosenberg said apprehensively.
"I withdraw the Plan." Gabriel answered.
"Look." Chris interrupted, exasperated. 'I swear I'm not leading a team, I'm supervising a herd of pre-schoolers!' He thought. "Can this JP Withers deliver, or not?"
"Well, yes." Gabriel answered reluctantly. "It's just a matter of when, and how much overkill."
"Great. JD, make the call."
JD sighed, shrugged, and made the call.
The tall, older man in faded blue jeans, black t-shirt and black leather jacket half-stood in the hell-dark forest. Slowly, he raised one black-gloved hand, and gracefully gestured his companion forward. The other man, shorter, with long hair and dressed in the all-black of his calling, crept forward, trying to be silent. Generally, he succeeded. He'd learned a great deal of stealth and caution in the last few years, and even more in the last three months—ever since he'd met up once more with the man in the leather jacket.
It had been hard, these last three months. For the shorter man was a generally gregarious person, and all this skulking about in the shadows was new to him and he disliked it immensely. And for what? Their mission had, it seemed, been for naught. They'd failed with a certain female vampire who'd stolen the Cross of Berziers, leaving a trail of bloodshed behind. For it had been Team Bliss—independents, for crying out loud—who'd disposed of her. And all the efforts the short, black-clad man and the leather jacketed man had made, the former faking his own death, and the latter faking insanity, both in order to disappear so they might lurk unknown in the shadows—had seemed in vain.
Til now.
The black-clad Father Adam Guiteau had discovered the prophesy just one week ago. He and the leather jacketed man, Jack Crow, had immediately set out to crash the party. Then, just this afternoon, through discrete inquiries made through people Fr. Adam didn't want to know about, Jack had learned that he and Fr. Adam weren't alone in their quest to stop the ritual, although he had no idea who else was involved.
He had, however, also discovered something that everyone seemed to be keeping quiet from everyone else—probably out of fear. That was the number of vampire-slayers—whether individual or teams, no matter what type of vampire they usually hunted—that had become the slain. Twenty-two individuals and fifteen teams had been massacred by the vampires they hunted. And now, Jack and Fr. Adam figured they knew why—to cover up this meeting. If they're all dead, no one could warn anyone, could they?
Jack and Fr. Adam crept up to the cave entrance. This entrance was blocked by a rock-slide—or had been, anyway. For the last few days, the two men had made quite a dent in clearing it. And the vampires didn't even know.
Now, the two men quietly moved aside the last few stones, and cleared away the brush they'd used to disguise the opened-up entrance.
"All this creeping about got the old adrenalin flowin' yet, Padre?" Jack whispered.
"Oh, sportin' redwood now!" Fr. Adam replied, with a grin, to the old joke.
"Language, Padre!" Jack chastised with mock shock. They entered the cave together.
In the meantime, Chris had broken the chains holding Fr. Josiah to the hard rock wall, while Buck had made his way down toward where he could see a dias set up with the Cross of Berziers on one side, and, on the other, another, plain wooden cross with ropes for tying the Slayer. Now, Buck was just waiting for a chance to get to the Cross unnoticed. Which wouldn't be easy, since, although nobody seemed to be paying any attention to it right now, the dias was very open and anyone getting up on it would be badly exposed.
And, on the other side of the cavern from Chris and Fr. Josiah, Gabriel resumed his human form and approached the young woman encased in heavy chains. He'd heard only vague stories about the Slayer, and knew nothing about her personally. He was surprised at how tiny she was. And yet, if the stories were true, she was as strong, physically, as most vampires. Obviously, if these bindings were any clue, these vampires, at least, believed the stories. 'We'll probably find out soon enough.' Gabriel thought. 'We may have to fight our way out of here.'
He approached the girl cautiously. Obviously, she wasn't going to be in the best of moods under the circumstances, and would probably scream or lash out at him if he wasn't careful.
"Psst!" Gabriel tried to get her attention. "Ms. Summers, I'm Gabriel Winston, and I'm here to get you out." The young woman's head lolled, then came up a bit. 'Drugged.' Gabriel figured. "Ms. Summers, can you hear me?"
"Muhh." She moaned. So Gabriel took a chance, walked right up to her, and shook her gently. Slowly, the blond seemed to get her head together some. She raised her head to look at him, squinting to focus.
"Who... ?" She managed.
"Gabriel Winston. I'm here to rescue you."
More quickly now, Buffy started to force herself to think past the effects of whatever drug she'd been given.
"Vampires... I was fighting... Dawn!" She remembered suddenly, adrenalin burning off more of the drug as fear gripped her. "Willow, Xander—" But before she could say more, Gabriel clapped a hand over her mouth, leaned in close to her ear, and hissed.
"Shhh! You must be quiet!" She tried to struggle for a second, but then her befogged brain finally registered where she was—and the enormous number of vampires around. Her eyes widened, as she took it in. Then those eyes swivelled towards Gabriel. Fear widened them further as she realized what he was.
"It's alright." Gabriel whispered. "I'm a good guy. I'm here to get you out." Cautiously, he removed his hand from her mouth, but kept it in place in case he had to muffle her again.
"Vampire?" She squeaked.
"Yes," Gabriel replied, "but I'm not evil. Never have been."
"You have your soul back?"
"Have my—?" Gabriel started, then realized. "Oh! No, I'm not like the Whedons you're used to. My breed of vampire isn't demon-possessed. We can be good or evil on our own."
"Whedons, other breeds of vampire, I don't understand."
As they spoke, Gabriel had been breaking her chains as quietly as possible, and now she was finally free.
"The vampires you slay, we call them Whedons. They are human bodies, with demon souls. My breed, however, are different. We have different but similar abilities. Anyway, we really need to get out of here right now."
"But what's happened to my sister? My friends?" Buffy was still having a difficult time focusing, but she had remembered her sister and her friends fighting vampires when she went down. By the way she felt, she realized she must have been drugged somehow, but couldn't focus enough to figure out how. Not that it seemed important at the moment.
"Your sister and your friends are fine." Gabriel assured her. "They're outside with a team of paranormal investigators right now." Buffy breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Then,
"Paranormal investigators? They don't happen to be called The Initiative, do they?" Gabriel chuckled, once, then sobered. He'd heard of The Initiative, but only that they were very militant, gung-ho ruffians with no morals or ethics when it came to dealing with "subs" or sub-humans, which is what they called anything non-human. To them, there were no "good" non-humans. Bureau 13 refused to have anything to do with them.
"No, Buffy, they're nothing like The Initiative. Bureau 13 are the good guys."
"Oh. Good."
And then, suddenly, just when all seemed to be going well—it all went to hell.
"The Slayer!" A vampire close by hissed. "She's loose!"
"So's the Priest!" Another revealed. The cry was taken up by more and more of the crowd. But Buffy didn't hesitate, finally managing to shake off the last, lingering effects of the drug, she started off with a roundhouse kick to the head of one vampire that flipped him into another. And the battle was on.
Fortunately, there was a side tunnel not too far away. According to JD's radar readings, there was a connecting tunnel farther along which led outside. It would come out on the far side of the rocks from the RV, but that was better than this. Gabriel gestured toward the tunnel entrance, and Buffy nodded understanding even as she punched a vampire in the gut, doubling him over.
"You wouldn't by any chance happen to have any stakes with you, would you?" The young woman asked as she flipped still a third vampire over her shoulder. Gabriel was impressed. 'She really is inhumanly strong... ' He thought as he pulled a stake and a bottle of holy water from a pocket of his jumpsuit. To her surprise, it was the holy water he handed her.
"What's this?" She asked contemptuously.
"Holy water." Gabriel replied as he staked a female vampire in a business suit. "You don't know anything about other breeds of vampire, so you don't know how to tell which ones you can't remove the stake from, and which ones aren't even affected by them. I do." Gabriel grabbed a male vampire in a green "pimp suit", and spun him into a nerdy vampire with glasses that had been broken and taped together. 'How seventies stereotypical.' Gabriel thought before continuing his conversation with Buffy. "But they're nearly all effected the same way by Holy water. Except for the green ones. Just stay the hell away from them; they've got poison breath."
"Not affected by stakes!? Poison breath?! I know I've missed a lot by staying in a small town like Sunnydale, but this is ridiculous!" Buffy complained. But she used the Holy water sparingly, and to best affect, while Gabriel staked vampire after vampire. And, true to his word, he pulled the stake from some to re-use, while others he left behind and pulled another. And all seemingly at random. 'I've got to get out more!' Buffy thought.
At the same time, Chris and Fr. Josiah were dealing with similar problems on the other side of the cavern. They'd been backed up against a wall, and were attempting to move towards another tunnel. It was fifty feet away, but may as well have been fifty miles for all the progress they weren't making towards it.
Fr. Josiah used his size and strength to advantage as he wielded his cross with one hand, and staked a vampire with the other (driving a stake into any being's heart takes more strength than one might think). At the same time, Chris picked up a big male vampire and threw him into the crowd around them, knocking down two other vampires in the process.
Then, as the pile of dust and shriveled corpses grew before them, someone or something started taking them out from behind the crowd of vampires still trying to get to them.
"Chris, get out of here!" Fr. Josiah yelled. He knew that all his team leader had to do was transform and he could probably escape. There was really no sense in him dying—Fr. Josiah was too valuable to kill, but Chris was merely a traitor to destroy.
"No!" Chris adamantly refused to leave the priest, even while realizing the same thing Fr. Josiah had. He wouldn't leave the other, however, for his creed was the same as the Rangers: No man left behind. Ever. And certainly, not having lost them all once already. Chris couldn't bear to lose any of them again. At least, not so soon; he deliberately avoided dwelling on the fact that he could survive them all again anyway, unless they somehow gained immortality—or Chris himself was destroyed.
Finally, the attackers from behind the crowd of vampires became visible—a man in a black leather jacket, and a man in a priest's black shirt, trousers, and white collar.
"Who are you?" Chris and the leather jacketed man asked simultaneously.
"Chris Larabee." Chris replied. "Team Larabee, Bureau 13."
"Jack Crow." The other man said, but got no farther.
"Jack Crow!?" The Bureau 13 men exclaimed. "I thought you were dead!"
"Nah, just misplaced for a while." Crow answered sarcastically. "So are you guys ready to get outta here?" Chris searched across the cavern, saw Gabriel and Buffy being joined by a young man with dark hair and a red-haired woman, as well as... JD!
"Dammit!" Chris swore. "Why's JD here, and who are they?"
"I don't know!" Fr. Josiah yelled back. "Let 'em fight, Chris, we need all the help we can get! They can't be allowed to get a priest or a slayer!"
"He's right! Let's go!" Jack yelled. With obvious reluctance, Chris left the main cave.
In all the confusion, the dias had been left wide open. Buck nonchalantly jumped up onto it, and wandered over to the Cross of Berziers. Just as he reached it, however, someone else appeared on the stage.
"Good evening." A short vampire with a tiny mustache said. "My name is Adolph Hitler, and I am your host for this evening."
In the meantime, Ezra had been patrolling the woods. He'd had a quiet time of it, mostly, except for the little run-in with The Slayer's friends. Still, he'd managed somehow to avoid the many dozens of vampires roaming these woods, looking for anything to kill and drain. The RV, he knew, was being avoided only because of the protection spell JD had put on it. Ezra, however, had no such spell, and was even now wondering just what the hell he was doing out here anyway? He had a finely honed sense of self-preservation, and this... this excursion into a horror movie was in direct contradiction to that desire to live. Ezra became less and less sure that dying was worth the good he'd come to do.
Finally, unable to shake the growing fear, Ezra broke and fled.
He didn't get far, and the man he ran into was almost worse than what he was fleeing.
Buck kicked the little man right in the shins, then grabbed the Cross of Berziers and took off at a dead run across the stage. Where he was immediately tripped by a clothesline to the throat by a big, burly vampire with a vacant expression.
"Damn minions!" Buck muttered. But Hitler was upon him immediately, screaming curses in what Buck took to be German. He wrestled the other vampire for a moment, but Hitler was evidently a Steakley/Carpenter, and a tough little bastard.
But Buffy had seen Buck's actions, and knowing nothing about the situation except the bits and pieces she'd heard between doses of the drug—that being that the Cross was important to the ritual—Buffy decided to do the unexpected. She broke and ran towards the stage.
"Buffy!" Gabriel yelped, exasperated, and took off after her.
A moment later, a showy leap and mid-air flip landed her on her feet in the center of the dias.
"Hey, pipsqueak!" She cried. "Try me!" And she grabbed him by the hair and spun him around.
Or tried to. She actually managed to do little but move him a step or two.
"Geeze this guy's strong." She muttered. She instantly switched tactics, aiming a powerful kick at the other cross, still standing untouched on the stage. The cross shook. She kicked it again, hard, and again. This time, it splintered. Quickly, she grabbed up a piece and swung it at the vampire. He merely knocked it aside with enough force to spin The Slayer around.
"Wanna play rough, huh?" The Slayer quipped, but she was worried. She'd never encountered a vampire this strong before.
In the RV, Vin, who'd been pacing frantically, not wanting to hold the fort but go help Chris and the others, suddenly stiffened up. Doc Nathan noticed immediately.
"Vin?"
"Oh, god." Vin whispered. He suddenly stared, horrified, at the doctor. Then he scrambled for the comm.
"Guys, you gotta git outta there!" He yelled, panicked; hoping they were in a position to hear. He'd known they were in trouble earlier, but had been too caught up in the vision crashing through him to stop Buffy's friends or JD from going in to help. And Doc Nathan had been too occupied trying to bring Vin back from inside the horrifying vision.
Now, however, this was too much. Vin wouldn't, couldn't stay out here when the others were about to die.
He was out the door before Doc Nathan could say a word.
Vin ran headlong through the woods and into the nearest entrance into the cave. Operating on instinct and intuition, he managed to avoid every vampire, until he finally emerged into the cavern. And was struck dumb for a second at what he saw.
Chris and Fr. Josiah were nowhere to be seen, but Buck and the blond girl who must be Buffy were fighting a weaselly little guy on stage, while Gabriel stood his ground in front of the stage, along with Buffy's friends and JD. The sense of urgency beat at Vin like the wings of a bat. He swallowed once, then waded in.
Chris, Fr. Josiah, Jack and Fr. Adam were standing in an alcove, panting for breath. Well, the two priests and Jack were, anyway. During their flight, the four men had given short explanations as to their purposes. Now, they were trying to decide what to do. Go back? Or get out? For, without a priest, the ritual was doomed to failure. And yet, Chris couldn't leave the others behind.
"We need to go back and help them!" Chris insisted.
"Sure, and the padres here get caught and were fucked! Great plan!" Jack told him.
"Well, we had another one, but it's failed, so we're fucked anyway!" Chris snapped.
"What plan? How do you know it failed?" Fr. Adam wondered.
"Plan B." Fr. Josiah replied absently. "We know it's failed 'cause we're still here".
"Huh?" And Chris and Jack went back to arguing between themselves, leaving the two priests standing, frustrated, on the side-lines. Finally, not knowing what else to do. Fr. Josiah stalked off a little ways, and began to pray. After a moment, Fr. Adam joined him.
Suddenly, Doc Nathan's voice came through the comm. He'd found the problem: a disconnected plug, and now the others could hear him.
"Guys, ya gotta get outta there."
"Well, we know that!" Chris snapped.
"No, you don't understand!" Doc Nathan replied. "Vin saw something. I don't know what, but he had another vision, and tried to warn you to get out! Nobody answered, though, and he went in after y'all.
"Oh, shit!" Chris moaned. "Ok, everybody get out! By any means, get out now! Meet back at the RV! Haul ass, Team!"
Buck gave in, abandoned the Cross, grabbed a protesting Buffy by the arm, and fled the stage. Down on the floor of the cave, Gabriel picked Willow up under one arm, and Xander under the other, and also fled the scene, JD following as best he could
And nearly ran Vin down. Vin, having just staked a vampire in clown make-up, of all things, turned and tore out after the others.
They all ran for their lives; ran as if the hounds of hell were after them. Which, in a manner of speaking, they were, as the vampires chased them through the tunnels.
Gabriel, reporting in as he ran, took point for his group while Buffy ran rearguard action, occasionally pausing in her flight to kick a vampire, stake another, or punch still a third.
Chris interrupted the two priests and hustled the four men out, also.
They emerged from two different sides of the rock formation above the cavern, still running as fast as they could.
"Vin," Chris yelled, "what's goin on, anyways, Cowboy? How far do we gotta go?"
"The RV! Doc, rev er up, we gotta git as far away as possible!" But he said no more, seeing no reason to waste the breath. Either they got away, or they didn't. And explanations wouldn't help either way.
They all arrived at the RV pretty close to the same time. Doc Nathan already was behind the wheel. As they all tumbled headlong into the RV, Chris did a quick head-count.
"Where's Ezra?" Chris asked frantically.
"Haven't seen hide ner hair of 'im." Doc Nathan said apprehensively. "Ain't been able to raise 'im on the comm, either."
"Shit!" Chris swore.
"Chris, we gotta go now!" Vin said urgently, reluctantly.
"Why?" Chris asked.
"JP Withers!" Was Vin's only reply. It was enough.
"Fuck!" Chris said. Then he pushed all emotion aside.
"Doc, go!" Chris cried.
But Doc Nathan protested, not wanting to leave Ezra behind. Clamping down on all emotion, Chris viciously yanked the big, black man out of the driver's seat and slid in behind the wheel. He gunned it, and tore out in a shower of dirt.
They were only a couple of miles down the road when suddenly, a blindingly bright light lit up the night sky, followed within seconds by a massive shock wave that shook the earth. Chris swore as he swerved right off the road.
Then, the light faded, and all became dark and silent and still once again. Chris, recovering quickly, threw the vehicle into reverse, skidded back onto the road—and drove back in the direction of the cavern.
As the dawn lit the sky with a soft, rosy glow, ten humans stared in awe at the mile-wide crater that resided where the mountain and cavern had once stood. As they watched the sun rise higher in the sky, flashes of light, some bright, some dim, marked the passing of any surviving vampires unable to get under cover in time. Chris, Buck, and Gabriel, of course, were safely ensconced in the RV with the shades drawn.
"I wonder what happened to Ezra?" Vin whispered, his throat tight with sadness and fear.
"Dead, probably." Jack answered bluntly.
"Or a vampire." Buffy added, equally bluntly.
"Actually, neither." A voice came from the forest. Following the voice was the man himself. Ezra, looking rather rumpled, stepped out among the group.
"Ez!" JD crowed, recovering first, and ran headlong at the man to jump into his arms, knocking them both to the ground.
"Ezra!" "Hey, Ez!" "Where were you?" "Has he been bit?"
That last question, from Doc Nathan, brought the celebration to a screeching halt. Fr. Josiah pulled the hustler to his feet, where Doc Nathan gave him a quick once-over, while mentally promising to do a much more thorough job later, in private, back at the warehouse.
"No, I am unsullied by any of the former denizens of the darkness." He assured them all.
"Then what the hell happened to you!" Vin yelled, smacking him on the arm.
"Ow!" Ezra said, moving away. "Well, if you must know, whilst out on my little excursion about the perimeter, I encountered a rather eccentric individual who was hurriedly implanting highly volatile substances at strategic locations about the hill. I thought it best to assist him, and thereby affected our successful destruction of the vampire's foul nest."
"JP Withers!" Jack Crow exclaimed. "I've heard stories about that nutcase, but I've never actually met him."
"Indeed." Ezra stated. "He is, as you say, rather eccentric. But competent. If a trifle... overzealous. At any rate, he drove us both to safety before triggering his "pets" as he called them. Then he ejected me from his vehicle not far from here, and departed."
"Well, thank God yer all right, Ez." Vin said, relieved.
"Indeed." Fr. Josiah added. 'Maybe our prayers really did help.' He thought.
Ezra checked out clean, as had everyone else, whom Doc Nathan had examined as a precaution.
That afternoon, Vin, Buffy, Jack, and Fr. Josiah went back to the crater and destroyed any vampires they could find that had managed to get under cover and away from the sun. They had also found the Cross of Berziers, "miraculously" intact, and had taken possession of it. It would be given over to another Bureau team which would transport it, under guard, to a Bureau-owned secure storage area. The Bureau, the others were told, had a lot of experience keeping artifacts, be they outright dangerous in themselves or just unsafe to have out loose, safely under lock and key and spell and ward and... Jack and Father Adam, especially, were glad that damned cross would be out of their hair and out of their lives for good.
That evening, back at the warehouse, a celebration was in full swing. The non-Bureau vampire slayers were a bit... disconcerted by the vampires in attendance. They had, however, agreed to... tolerate them since they'd proven themselves in the night's battle.
Suddenly, JD emerged from his rooms dressed in Old West garb.
"Hey, guys, how do I look?" Chris and Buck stared at him, open-mouthed. They glanced uneasily at each other. "God!" The look said. "Its our JD!"
But the others didn't notice. Instead, Jack took one look, then walked up to him.
"What's with the stupid hat?" He asked, knocking the bowler off the young man's head.
"Hey!" He said, as he bent to retrieve it.
"Hey, you!" Buck shouted angrily, launching himself off the couch. He halted beside JD, who put the bowler back on. "Don't you dare touch him!" Buck said, right in the other slayer's face. Jack backed off in the face of the big man's anger—but only because he figured if he did anything violent to either of the two men, he'd end up a smear on the wall by the time the other members of Team Larabee were through with him.
Then, suddenly, Buck broke into a sunny smile.
"Only I'm allowed to kid him about the stupid hat." And he knocked it once more to the floor.
And, as Buck and JD fought over the hat, kicking it around the room as they did, Chris looked on, emotion choking him.
The Magnificent Seven were on guard in Four Corners once again.
--The End--
P.S. Yes, Gabriel Winston really does have the bat-sized leather jacket and helmet. They were gifts from his team mate, a witch named Jennifer Morrison. And, also yes, he really has been a bat hood-ornament on a car (which is the reason for the leather jacket & helmet—to protect against the elements—and bugs; real bats may eat bugs, but not Gabriel). Clever disguise, eh?