Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Just had to say that...just had to gush, hi hi!
Chapter 8: Surprise Guests …

Previously: Faith tells Buffy how she met Tierre in a bounty hunt, where he was the bounty. She helped him get out of a deadly situation and tells him to go to the Council. But Tierre, somehow, never showed up. Buffy realizes that Angel has known all along, and that he has hidden Tierre from her…

***

“What do you mean the Vashkans are alive?” Logan’s angry stare was enough to peel the expensive chintz wallpaper from the walls.

“We didn’t exactly get the chance to slice ‘em and dice ‘em,” Dysis replied.

“Maybe you were playing around again.”

“We were in Slayer H.Q.! C’mon, don’t tell me you’re surprised!”

“You would have done the same thing, had you been there,” Luis said, leaning against the wall, looking nonchalant when he was anything but.

“All those little Slayers …” Gino shivered in frustration.

“They still need a better security system, though,” Edwin put in.

Solana, comfortably lounging against the plush sofa, giggled, “You guys are all dancing around the point. The truth of the matter is, we still didn’t get us any Vashkans!”

Everyone glared at her, including her own sister, “Shut up, Sol,” Dysis snapped.

Solana pouted, “Meanie,” she muttered sulkily.

“I can’t believe you failed. What you had to do was so simple! Kill the Vashkans. You know who they are and what they look like already. You could’ve done it blindfolded without any Slayer knowing until she tries to talk to the faery sitting next to her and finds that his throat has been cut,” Logan stared at them in disgust, “This is embarrassing. You are all going back there and―”

“You’re doing no such thing.”

The entire group straightened. Logan turned around, “Mr. Scarletta, sir. Good evening.”

“Spare me, Logan,” Franco said dismissively.

“So you’ve already heard. This won’t happen again.”

“We had us a Vashkan, Mr. Scarletta!” Gino suddenly exclaimed, “One among the four. But―”

“But nothing. Tierre had taken one of the Vashkans. Not you.”

Logan’s anger and humiliation doubled. Tierre was there? Why didn’t his team say anything? Of course, because they were all too busy covering their own asses. All except for Solana, and she was a ditz.

“You took a risk in attacking the Council, Logan. There are humans in there. People.” Franco said angrily. In the face of such obvious disapproval, Logan found it hard to hold his head high, “People would turn their heads and look the other way even in the face of the strangest events. But an entire ‘academy’ of dead girls is not one of those.”

“We wouldn’t have killed them, sir.” Gino lied, “That’s why I only used sleeping gas on them.”

“And Master Tierre was the one who fought the Vashkans―rather well, may I add,” Edwin seconded, “But he chose to save the Slayer Faith instead of taking the three elves with us and―”

“Pointing fingers now?”

All heads turned to the sofa, surprised to find Tierre already lounging there. Even Solana’s eyes were saucer-wide, and her legs were draped on Tierre’s lap.

“Where did you come from?” she blurted out, without thinking, then slapped her hands over her mouth in horror.

“From beneath the earth,” Tierre teased, “Or so I’ve been told.”

“M-master Tierre, I wasn’t really pointing fingers―” Edwin stuttered.

“Yes, you were,” Tierre said coolly, stroking the length of Solana’s left leg idly.

“Yes, I was,” Edwin admitted meekly.

“And rightly so,” Franco regarded Tierre sternly, “Why, may I ask, is the female Vashkan currently admitted in one of our own hospitals?”

“Umm …” Tierre pretended to think, “Oh! Because she was injured! And because I wanted to patronize one of Scarletta’s endeavors. Plus, I know we have the best in medical resources,” Kiss my ass, he thought with a grin.

“You were supposed to kill the Vashkan,” Logan pointed out.

Tierre’s smile vanished. Blue eyes pierced Logan to the bone, “Yes. Me.” He said coldly, “So what the bloody hell was your team doing, playing with my toys?”

The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped below 40°. Tierre didn’t look away. To his credit, neither did Logan.

“This was my mess,” the leader of Mercury said quietly, “I wanted to clean it up myself.”

“How noble of you,” Tierre sneered. He pushed Solana’s legs off his lap and her boots thudded loudly even against the thick carpet. He stood up, “You may go,” he said.

Scarlet Mercury didn’t need to be told twice. They left, but they did so with composure. They knew better than to embarrass themselves in front of Franco and Tierre by tripping on their own feet while rushing to get away.

In the doorway, Luis stopped and met Logan’s stare briefly. Then he, too, left.

Logan nodded politely first at Franco, then at Tierre, before starting for the door himself.

“Not yet, Logan,”

He stopped and tried to calm himself. Tierre has never been known to kill one of his men in front of Franco Scarletta before, he told himself.

“Why did you do it?” Tierre asked pleasantly, his face all open and friendly, “Why did you disobey me and snuck around behind my back?”

“I told you the reason already.”

“It was your mess, I know. But it was also my mission. I said so myself, didn’t I?”

Logan straightened to his full height. Tierre may be the strongest in this room right now, capable of ripping Logan’s arm out of its socket without so much as a grunt, but the real power lay in Franco’s hands. So Logan wasn’t about to cower. The last remaining Scarletta needed him, and Franco wasn’t one to waste resources. Franco will stop Tierre from doing anything … unnecessary.

“I was only doing my job, Master Tierre,” Logan said firmly, “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think you’d take this mission seriously. You have never before shown any interest in the Vashkan situation. I was only executing damage control.”

“Damage control? That’s interesting. Especially now that the Slayers have taken a good, long, satisfactory look at our faces. I’ve no doubt that they’re tracking us down right now,” Tierre smirked, “And you say you had no plans of killing the Slayers.”

“I’ll fix this,” Logan stated with more confidence than he really felt.

“How?” Tierre challenged. The glint in his eyes told Logan he already had an answer to his own challenge, but knew that Logan didn’t. Logan fantasized about shooting the arrogant boy right between the eyes. On a purely basic level, he hated that a child-man eight ( or thereabouts ) years his junior was lording it over him.

But another part of him knew that all the things he’d been through in 35 years of existence didn’t even come up to half of Tierre’s experiences in the past four years alone. And that was still excluding the Wolf’s past―if it was ever proven to be true instead of just theory.

Just then, before Logan could come up with a sufficient reply, Tierre said, “You may go,”

He was surprised. But he’d be a fool if he stuck around. He started to leave―

“Oh, and Logan?”

―Gritted his teeth, “Yes?”

“If you ever go over my head again, I will take yours,” Tierre declared this as simply as though he just said, if you don’t study for your exam, you will fail.

Franco was smiling slightly. No help there.

Logan exited the room, feeling as though he’d just escaped by the skin of his teeth.


~*~*~*~


Tierre squatted down on the carpeted floor, picked up the discarded remote control from the carved mahogany coffee table and clicked to life the large television screen tucked into the wall behind double roll back sliding panels. He leaned back against one of the two long, burgundies, gold and velvet sofas, one arm perched on a drawn-up knee.

Franco had fixed himself a gin and tonic and went over to lean against the grand piano that was older than a certain vampire Tierre knew and regarded the young man quietly for several seconds.

“What is it?” Tierre finally asked, still channel surfing.

“You don’t like Logan.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Usually, no. But you’re going out of your way to let him know that you dislike him.”

“He’s insubordinate.”

Franco laughed genuinely, “Look who’s talking! I remember you used to give Mar―uh …” he trailed off uncomfortably. On the floor, Tierre had gone very still, “You used to give all of us headaches all the time,” Scarletta finished weakly.

“Yeah, but I turned out okay. And I don’t waste resources,” Tierre said after several seconds, as though he had just decided to join the conversation.

Ah, so there it is, Franco stared down at his drink. Tierre was angry at Logan, whether for allowing so many of their men to die in an unnecessary battle, or for killing so many Vashkans in an … unnecessary battle―he wasn’t sure. But he was sure it was one of those reasons. Maybe even both.

“He’s a good fighter, Logan is,” Franco continued, “He’s proven himself time and again.”

“No doubt about that. Why do you think he’s still alive?” Tierre’s devil-may-care grin offered an almost poignant glimpse to the head-strong, wild and … all too soft-hearted boy he had been. But that was all that it was. A glimpse. Tierre shared as many similarities to that boy now as a cat did to a tiger. Franco knew that better than anyone. He had been there for the pivotal moment of Tierre’s transformation from boy to man. And man … to something else as of yet undefined.

Tierre dropped the remote control and stood up, “I gotta go,” he said.

Franco glanced at his watch, “It’s late. Stay for the night. Cory still keeps your room spotless, you know.”

Tierre was already shrugging into the coat he’d dumped thoughtlessly on one of the chairs, “Maybe some other time,” he said casually.

“I’ll walk you out,” Franco offered, and fell in step beside Tierre before he could protest.

“So … about the Vashkans,”

“Leave them to me.”

Franco cast around for other things to say, other topics of conversation. Now that Tierre had volunteered for the Vashkan problem, there was no need for anymore worries. So the Vashkans were invalid as subjects of simple talk.

“You’re going to be here for the party?” Scarletta asked hopefully.

“I told you no.”

“You never show up for these things.”

“It’s too risky,”

“No one connects you to me, Tierre. Not as Scarlet and Scarletta.”

“I know.”

“So why do you keep running away?”

Tierre stopped walking, “I’m not runnin’ away.”

Franco nodded, “Then you’ll be at the party.” It wasn’t a question. Not even an invitation. It was a command.

Tierre’s face was tight. But then he put on those damnable sunglasses and his face revealed nothing once more, “Fine,” he snapped, “But if I fall asleep while one of your ‘business associates’ is yappin’ at my face? It’s your fault.” And then he was walking away.

Franco sighed. The house’s emptiness echoed back at him. It was awful the way Tierre always seemed so eager to be as far away from the mansion as possible. Deep inside, Franco understood. There were far too many memories here for Tierre.

But Tierre was all that he had now. He may have lost his children, but Franco had never stopped being a father. Ivo’s disappearance, followed so soon by Maria’s murder had nearly destroyed him. Tierre’s subsequent suicide attempt had left a fear in his heart that he could never banish.

Tierre was better now. Colder, crueler, but infinitely better. Franco was glad for that. Soon enough, Tierre would be invincible. But for that to happen, Franco needed to work even harder, “Aah … the sacrifices a father makes for his child,” he said to himself. Oh, well. Back to the lab.

He had a Prophecy to decrypt.


~*~*~*~


The next day found Buffy and Faith striding determinedly towards Wolfram and Hart. When they got inside, however, they realized they didn’t have to go on any further.

A tall, skinny and very pretty brunette was walking towards them. Buffy recognized her immediately, and she briefly wondered if Angel had ever lied to the woman.

“Fred. Where’s Angel?” Buffy went directly to the point.

“He’s not here,” Fred replied. To Faith, she looked tense and nervous. Then again, that was just a Fred thing.

“Wesley?” the dark Slayer inquired.

“They’re not here,” Fred pursed her lips, “I’m not supposed to tell you where they are.”

Faith snorted, “What’re you, eight?”

“Is he hiding from me?” Buffy exclaimed in disbelief. She can sort of believe that Angel had lied to her, but to have him hiding from her like … like … like someone who had something to hide was―

“No! Why would he? He and Wes just have a few … things to take care of,”

“One o’ those things happen to go by the wickedly unique name of ‘Tierre’?” Faith asked wryly.

Fred’s eyes widened and she grew pale, “You … how did you know?”

Faith shrugged, “Wild stab,”

“Fred. Where. Are. They?” Buffy enunciated each word.

As disloyal as it was to Angel, Fred couldn’t help but feel relieved that Buffy already knew. That meant she won’t be breaking any promises to the vampire with a soul. “Come with me,” she said, leading the way out of the building, “We need to talk.”


~* ~* ~*~


It was Fred’s favorite coffee place. A bit on the expensive side, but the privacy it provided was worth it.

“Almost four years ago, Tierre came to stay with us,” the Texan began softly, peering into her steaming cup of latte, “He was … Wesley said he was the spitting image of a vampire named―”

“Spike,” Buffy said, just as softly. Fred nodded.

“No, he wasn’t,” Faith interjected, “Didn’t Angel or Wesley ever make a comment on the fact that Tierre looked younger than the original Spike?”

Fred nodded again, “Yes. Actually, I once overheard Angel and Wesley talking about that. Tierre really was just a kid. Very skinny, ate like a horse,” she smiled fondly at the memories, “Wouldn’t stop eating. It was like he hadn’t eaten for a hundred years.”

Buffy was on full attention now. Hadn’t eaten in a hundred years?

“Loud. Unpredictable. A natural troublemaker,” Fred sighed, “But he could be so sweet, you know? The truth was, behind his tough-talking bravado, he was terrified.”

“Terrified?” this from Buffy, whose mind flashed to the events the night before. Tierre hadn’t been scared. In fact, it was more likely that fear itself would be terrified of him.

Faith, on the other hand, remembered the kid in the Yorkshire woods, scared that if he went to South Hampshire, the Slayer would stake him.

“He was … different,” Fred searched for the right words, “I said he was special. Angel insisted he was an abomination. But whatever else he was, Angel decided that Tierre was his responsibility. He tried to … discipline … Tierre, to curb his natural tendencies for getting into fights. I think―I think he wanted Tierre to be better. Better than Spike. His intentions were noble, really,” Fred locked pleading eyes on Buffy, “But Tierre was always so strong-willed. When he got hurt or scared, he’d instantly get sarcastic and disrespectful―especially towards Angel―mostly because Angel hated and refused to understand any signs of weakness from Tierre. As you can probably guess, the two of them never got along.”

The two Slayers watched as Fred chewed on her lower lip, beverage forgotten. Fred, on the other hand, was contemplating whether or not to tell them everything that had happened the day Tierre and Angel both gave up on each other. That memory still hurt. Fred had genuinely cared for Tierre. Still did, actually. But Angel was her friend. And the events of that day not only wounded her, but frightened her as well.

She looked up at Buffy and Faith. They were the two Slayers that Angel trusted the most. But she found that she couldn’t tell them what had really happened between Angel and Tierre. That should be Angel’s call, “Anyway, they had a fight, a serious one, and Tierre left. How he ended up with Scarlet, I don’t know. I know what you’re thinking: Scarlet is evil. Yes, most of them are. But Tierre is not.”

“No one’s sayin’ that he is, Fred,” Faith told her somberly.

“But you’re thinking it!” Fred looked close to tears and her breath hitched in a sob, “Even Angel and Wesley are thinking it, what with this Vashkan business …”

Buffy stiffened, “They went after Tierre, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did,” Fred seemed to have regained control and when she spoke, her voice was shaky but resolute, “Angel is not Tierre’s enemy, but Tierre will treat him that way because he refuses to believe otherwise. You have to stop them. Don’t let them hurt each other anymore.”

“Great idea, Fred,” Faith muttered dryly, “It’d be even better if we knew where to find them.”

“New York,” Fred said without hesitation, “Tierre is from New York City. Wolfram and Hart also have a smaller base of operations there. I can put in a call, tell them to expect you.”

Buffy shook her head, “No. I don’t want Angel to know we’re coming.”

Fred’s gaze turned to worry again, and the blonde Slayer sighed, “We are going to help, Fred, but Angel’s habit of keeping things from us is jut going to make things complicated. In case you haven’t noticed, we have another mission aside from resolving the Angel-Tierre feud. We have very impatient Vashkans on our hands.”

“Oh, them.”

“Yeah, them. We’d appreciate getting in touch with your base in New York, but if possible, don’t let Angel and Wesley know that we’re coming.”


~*~ * ~*~


NEW YORK:

“Just how long do you plan to stay asleep?”

His voice had a teasing quality to it. She can sense the playfulness in his nature whenever he talked this way. But with this playfulness came restraint. He was in control not just of her, but perhaps more importantly, of himself. It wasn’t tight, either, this self-control. He didn’t have to force it. Control for him was easy, something he did as naturally as breathing.

It shocked her, this quality of his. Mercury, the group he had sent to their world, had certainly not bothered to control themselves. He was far removed from them. He was patient.

She decided not to test him. A man who can so easily hold himself in check, can just as easily choose not to.

She opened her eyes. The room she was in had not changed since the night they brought her here. That was a full day ago. She felt as if she was in a chamber with no definite borders. Everything was painted a stark, unapologetic white: the walls, the bed, the floor. Even the ceiling.

“Good morning,” he greeted her pleasantly. He was leaning against an open window, and the sunlight illuminated him from behind, making him almost invisible to her.

“It is morning,” she noted. Her tongue felt thick inside her mouth.

“Yes, it is,” he pushed away from the window and moved towards her. She can see him now. Oddly enough, he didn’t look like a monster. The harsh planes of his face prevented him from looking kind, however.

Until he smiled, and suddenly, he was no different from any other young man. “You were playing possum, pretending to be asleep all this time,” he teased.

“I wasn’t pretending. I was trying to sleep. I couldn’t.”

“Were you afraid you’d be killed in your sleep?”

“You are not above it.”

“Oh, but I am … unless provoked,” he settled himself at the foot of the bed she was in, “They tell me your name is Yesha. That’s what your friends called you.”

“By ‘they’, do you mean your bloodthirsty little army?”

“Yes.”

Yesha sniffed haughtily, “Cowards. They took me because I was injured and couldn’t fight back.”

He chuckled, “Actually, I’m the one who brought you here.”

Her smile was cold and brittle, “I rest my case.”

“You must have been in motion when Dysis’ blades hit you. Otherwise, they would have cut you too deeply for you to survive your wounds,” he continued, “You’re very lucky.”

“What kind of a man does not care that he had just been called a coward? In our world, that is considered a grave insult.”

“Here as well. But I’ve been called worse. Besides, I know that I’m not a coward. The opinions of others don’t really matter to me.”

“ I assume that not a lot matters to you.”

Again, he laughed, “Assume makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’.”

Yesha just stared at him. What a strange man.

He cleared his throat, “Well, I can see just how fond you are of this room, but I’m sorry to say that it’s time to leave.”

“For where?”

“Um … you’ll know when we get there.”

Yesha’s hands crushed the sheets beneath her, “I will not go anywhere with you, Tierre Wolfson,” she hissed, “If you wish to kill me, do it here and now. But I’m promising you: You will not succeed.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” Tierre gave an exasperated sigh, “But you’re well now. There’s no need for you to stay here anymore. It’s as simple as that.”

“I am not going with you.”

Tierre frowned down at her, “I didn’t say you had a choice.”


~*~*~*~


SOMEWHERE IN THE AIR:

“Are you feeling all right? Do your wounds hurt?”

Yesha didn’t want to answer him; didn’t want to talk at all. Her injuries had healed considerably, but she was still in no condition to fight Wolfson. She knew, too, that had she been at full strength, going up against Wolfson would still be criminally stupid.

“Yesha?”

“I heard you,” she snapped, “I’m hurt, not deaf.”

He sighed, “Are you still mad at me?”

She gave him that brittle smile again, “I am not the one who is mad. You are.”

Her insult once again failed to raise any hurt or anger in him. But in this moment, that was actually a blessing, since they were flying. Or, rather, Wolfson was flying, and she was his unwilling passenger. This particular aircraft was smaller than that metal monstrosity that humans called an airplane, but she still couldn’t imagine how Wolfson could control it and make it look so effortless. Vashkans were not ignorant of technology, but they were justifiably wary of it. This was only Yesha’s second time on a plane; the first having been during the time they had left Scotland for England. They had managed to do that by the help of other elfin races who have chosen to live in the human world disguised as mortals.

“What if I told you that I had nothing to do with what Mercury did to your people?” Wolfson was saying.

“I won’t believe you.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“You read minds as well?”

“I had nothing to do with the massacre of you Vashkans,” Tierre said, and for the first time, there was no hint of playfulness in his voice.

Yesha listened, if only to hear what manner of pathetic lies a murderer can weave.

“It’s useless to tell you this now, but what happened to you was unnecessary. And I’m sorry for your loss, as inadequate as my apology may be.”

She gasped, out of shock, anger and general disbelief. But before she could formulate a reply, Wolfson spoke again, “Now, since all you Vashkan leaders are here, who’s mindin’ the store?”

Yesha laughed scornfully, “Yes, I should tell you so you would know what to expect when you go to our mountains again.”

“Fair enough.”

She despised him, the Vashkan queen suddenly realized. She loathed him. She hated that he was so unaffected, that he refused to respond to her anger. She wanted to scream her fury at him, strike at him, hurt him as badly as she and her people had been hurt.

She wanted to kill him.

The coldness that had hatched in her since the night they had been attacked grew some more. It grew at a pace that she found frightening. And yet it was the one thing that calmed her. She should be grateful to it, really, for if not for that coldness, she might have jumped Wolfson by now and wrestled the controls from his able hands, sending them both plummeting to their deaths. And then she would have accomplished nothing.

Patience, Kavrois. Never act on impulse. Watch. Listen. Observe. Find the enemy’s weakness.

And then destroy him.

“Why am I still alive?” she demanded, “Don’t tell me you are bothered by your conscience. I fear I may not be able to accept that.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“I know why,” she said slyly.

Wolfson slid her a questioning glance, “Why?”

“You think you may be able to question me about the Balancer. You’ve stolen it, but you’re still completely ignorant about it, so once again, you turn to us.”

“You’re close,” Wolfson said, with a touch of approval, “But you still didn’t get it right. First of all, if I wanted to know about the Balancer, I would have taken Seyhan D’Harken, not you. Yes, I know about Seyhan. My bloodthirsty little army gave me the rundown on the four of you on our way home. Seyhan is the ruler of the Western tribe, and they’re the ones who looked after baubles like the Balancer and such.”

“So? Do the paid guards in your hospital know everything about Scarlet?”

Wolfson laughed, “Good point. But then, the paid guards in our hospital don’t go chasing after some moron straight into another dimension if I were kidnapped. Scarlet would take care of that. You know, just like Seyhan did when the Balancer was stolen.”

Smug bastard. Only he didn’t sound smug. He spoke in a matter-of-fact manner.

“Second of all, we’re not completely ignorant about your pretty li’l trinket,” he continued, “Not everything has come clear yet, of course, but all in due time. With your help, it might even go faster.”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there.”

She was on the verge of exploding in anger again. Yesha fought it back, “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Forgive me if I don’t bow down and kiss your feet in gratitude.”

“Yesha, you’re a dead elf walking,” Wolfson said bluntly, “My father doesn’t like you and he wants you dead. I don’t agree, but I’m only second in command. Believe it or not, I’m your only protection, and all it takes is for me to look away for a second, and you’re a goner.”

“You think too highly of Mercury.”

“Not Mercury you should be worried ‘bout.”

Yesha felt the now-familiar fear thaw a little of the coldness inside her. Of course. Mercury was only one of the teams that composed the whole of Scarlet.

“I don’t want you to die. Work with me if you share the same sentiments.”

“Don’t lie to me, Wolfson. And don’t tease me anymore. Why am I still alive?”

“You’re alive,” Tierre said softly, “Because I’m not done with you yet.”


NEW YORK: THAT NIGHT:

“Hey, Wes,”

Wesley looked up at the sound of the familiar, husky voice, and nearly bit his own tongue, “Faith?!”

The dark-haired Slayer shifted slightly in her position. She was leaning against a black car with tinted windows. She nodded once, the only response she gave to Wesley’s shock.

Faith’s presence in New York could mean plenty of things, Wesley told himself. Unlike other Slayers, Faith’s duties were not limited to one state. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, in a patented Watcher voice.

“Visiting your office,” Faith replied.

Wesley stared at her, then he turned and started for the non-descript building in front of them.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Faith said calmly, “B’s in kind of a take-no-prisoners mood right now.”

Dreading what he would find, Wesley ignored Faith’s warning. He knew this would happen; he’d seen it coming years away. He should’ve done something, tried harder―

Suddenly, he found himself yanked backwards, then turned roughly around. “I said no,” Faith said softly. The quiet fury in her coffee-brown eyes stilled the ex-Watcher. Well, that, and the fingers still wrapped around his arm like an iron band.

All he could say to her was, “Angel had his reasons.”

“And that’s what he’s goin’ to tell her,” Faith’s fingers relaxed, and Wesley had to try not to rub his arm. It seemed to him that Faith got stronger every time he saw her.

She leaned back against the car again. Wesley sat down on the second of the steps that led up to the building.

They waited.


~*~ *~ *~


Angel woke up the moment the sun went to bed. Rising from his bed, he went downstairs to fix himself something to eat. He had a feeling he was going to be up all night tonight.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Buffy was standing in front of him.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she beat him to it.

She slapped him.

He felt the sting all the way to his heart. She knew. He looked up, not bothering to mask the guilt and sorrow that he knew was scrawled flagrantly across his face.

Buffy was staring at him wide-eyed. She couldn’t believe what she’d done. She hadn’t meant it, it was just … instinct. She wanted to tell Angel that; to apologize, but the look on his face erased all her regrets.

“Buffy, I―”

“Don’t,” the Slayer held up a hand, cutting off his no doubt heartfelt apology, “Just tell me why. Why didn’t you tell me there was a man with Spike’s face walking around under the sun for four years now? Why did you lie to me?”

“I can’t tell you my reasons.” Angel replied.

“Why not?” Buffy’s voice was low and dangerous.

“Because you would hate me,” was his simple answer. No shame, no pain, just the certainty of her reaction.

Buffy felt all the intense frustration inside her slowly leave. She closed her eyes briefly, then tried to summon up a smile. She failed. “I’m sorry I slapped you,” she said, “I had no right and I didn’t mean to. And Angel … you know that I could never hate you.”

An awkward silence fell between them. The Slayer looked around the building. The inside was clean and well-equipped, but it was hardly Wolfram and Hart material. It was too middle-class. It was what New Yorkers called a brownstone.

“Not what I expected for a Wolfram and Hart base,” she said nonchalantly. Anything to banish the betrayal she still felt. She didn’t come here to start a fight. She needed Angel on her side, after all. She’ll have to hang on to her calm.

“It wasn’t meant to be a base at first,” the vampire with a soul said, playing along, “It was supposed to be a safehouse.”

“For who?”

“Tierre.”

Buffy’s head snapped up, “From whom?”

“Scarlet.”

Fear clouded Buffy’s green eyes, and her heart sped up. That was before she reminded herself of who Tierre was. He ruled Scarlet. She said that aloud, to dispel the sudden, intense rush of fear she felt for Tierre Wolfson.

Angel shook his head. He went into the kitchen, and Buffy followed. He prepared his meal while the Slayer leaned against the counter, “Tierre wasn’t always the head honcho. He had to work his way up from the bottom rung. He got promoted faster than everyone else, though. What can I say? He’s an overachiever.”

An overachiever. Among … Scarlet. Oh, God.

Looking at her pale face, Angel felt even worse, “I can’t prove that he’s been involved in outright assassinations. But Tierre’s hands are stained with blood, Buffy. I can’t lie to you about that. Not now,” he said softly, “After he left Wolfram and Hart, it took me a while to finally track him down. When Tierre wants to disappear, he disappears. In fact, I suspect that the only way I found him was because somebody allowed me to.”

“Fred said that …”

“Fred?”

“Yes, Angel, Fred. Don’t blame her for caving in, I was shooting flames out of my nostrils at the time,” Buffy joked lamely, “She said that Tierre came to Wolfram and Hart. The way she described the time he spent with you made me think that he wasn’t just a case. She seemed … very concerned for Tierre.”

Angel smiled softly, “Of course she is. She and Tierre were friends. She was the only one he listened to, aside from Maggie.”

She never mentioned that, Buffy thought, with a touch of possessiveness, “Why did he leave?”

“Because he couldn’t stand me.”

“Aww … how could that possibly be?”

“And I tried to kill him.”

Buffy’s teasing smile faded, “What?”

Angel looked her right in the eye, “I tried to kill Tierre.”

The scene of Tierre fighting the Vashkans like it was a game to him flashed in Buffy’s brain. Mercury made a guest appearance, too, “What did he do?” she asked Angel. Inside, she really didn’t want to hear about Tierre’s earlier evil. But pretending it never happened wouldn’t make it go away. She steeled herself.

“He brought his wet, sand-covered surf board inside my office again. After several emphatic orders not to.”

Buffy blinked. Angel’s face was so white; it looked like a smooth, marble sculpture. She frowned, looked at him harder, then said, “Come again?”

Angel sighed, “Buffy, I can’t …”

“Don’t give me that! Don’t do this to me again! What’re you saying? You tried to kill him because he tracked sand and droplets of seawater inside your immaculate office? That’s insane!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Angel yelled, finally losing control, “I- I wasn’t myself. That’s not even a good excuse. I told you I can’t tell you my reasons now. I don’t understand them myself. And even if I did, I still wouldn’t tell you now. Because these are things that I have to resolve with Tierre first. Not you.”

Buffy wanted to hit something, or scream in frustration. But deep inside, she knew Angel was right. Besides, their falling out wasn’t that essential in figuring out what to do about the Vashkans.

The Vashkans. They were her primary reason for being here. Buffy felt ashamed that she had to remind herself of that.

“You’re right,” she said quietly, “Of course, I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

Angel relaxed. Tierre was already behind enemy lines. He didn’t think he could handle it if Buffy was, too, “Thank you.”

Buffy smiled tightly, “But don’t think you’re off the hook. I have so many questions to ask you, not the least of which is the question of Wolfson’s true identity,” she sighed, “But those could wait. I have other things to think about.”

“The Vashkans.”

“Yeah.”

They heard the front door open and close again. Wesley and Faith appeared in the kitchen doorway. The brunette Slayer looked from Buffy to Angel, and back again, making no secret of her curiosity, “Hmmm …” she hummed with a slight smile. She glanced up at Wesley smugly.

Wesley looked so relieved, Buffy fought back a laugh. His loyalty was touching, but did he really think she would have done something to Angel?

“So …” Buffy turned back to Angel, “Tell us how we can break Scarlet and get Yesha and the Balancer back,” she flushed, and then looked away, “I mean, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to …”

“I’ll help,” Angel said, “It’s the least I could do.”

“B, you need the others to be here?” Faith asked. Buffy nodded, “C’mon, Wes. I’ll need your help with the elves. They’re temperamental.”

“Come on,” Angel said to Buffy, “There’s something I need to show you.”


~*~ *~ *~


Buffy stared at the files spread in front of her, “Angel, are you sure you’re not a closet Tierre-fan?”

Angel scowled at her, “I was only keeping an eye on him.”

A collection of black and white surveillance photos littered the oval conference table in the Operations room. Tierre was in most of them, looking unaware of being watched. None of the pictures were very recent.

“I had to stop. He was getting too good at spotting my spies,” Angel said, “And a lot less generous in dealing with them.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “Did he …?”

“No. He’d send them back. They would quit as soon as they’re freed. They don’t ever want to deal with him again.”

“Some of these were taken in different countries.”

“He travels a lot.”

Buffy glanced up at him questioningly, “You’ve watched over him all these years, haven’t you? Why?”

He shrugged, tried to be nonchalant, “I owed him that much, at least,” he said quietly, “I put up this place for Tierre. When I first found out he had joined Scarlet, I thought he wouldn’t last. This was a ready sanctuary just in case he decided to come back.”

“And immediate protection. You knew Scarlet wouldn’t just let Tierre go if he ever decided to leave,” Buffy said, “Why would you think he wouldn’t last in Scarlet?”

“The truth? Tierre absolutely despises being given orders,” Angel toyed with a photograph, “And … he wasn’t exactly Scarlet material … at first.”

“But that didn’t last.”

“No. In time, we had to convert this place into our base of operations, dedicated solely to some Scarlet and Tierre-centric situations.”

“You’ve gone up against him before?” Buffy asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Angel looked embarrassed, “And … we’ve lost to him before. Crafty punk.”

“Who’s this?” Buffy asked, holding up a photo of a younger Tierre and a young Asian man. Unlike most of the other photos, this one was in full color. It was, in fact, not a surveillance photo. It was a personal picture. The young man had an arm around Tierre’s neck in a pretend headlock, the fingers of his free hand up in the peace sign. Tierre grinned broadly at the camera, an elbow dug up against the guy’s ribs. There were other people in the background, and a stage. Most of the guys in the background had no shirts on and had wild hair.

Angel didn’t miss the soft smile on Buffy’s face as she gazed at the picture, “He looks so happy here.”

“That… is Ikari Toya,” Angel said, “Tierre’s best friend and partner. Back in the days when Tierre was still just another Scarlet member. Ikari was actually part of a contingent, not a recruit. Tierre is the only one who was ever recruited directly by Scarlet. Contingents are mercenaries, Scarlet’s back-up army. There aren’t a lot of young people there. Ikari was the only one close to Tierre’s age. Possibly the only one he could goof around with.”

“And God knows we all need people like that,” Buffy smiled, thinking of Xander and Willow in their teen years.

“Wesley took this picture in some rock or punk band’s concert. We had received a report of a Tierre-sighting in that area, but I was in L.A. at the time, so Wesley went on his own. I remember how bitterly he complained about the crowd,” Angel said, amused, “Anyway, he told me he was trying his damnedest to avoid getting sucked into a mosh pit, when someone suddenly jumped him.”

“Tierre?”

“Toya,” Angel replied, “He had spotted Wesley first. Wesley thought it was Tierre, because he said the hammerlock was very effective. He was dragged to a semi-clear area and would have been beaten or worse for his trouble. That was when Tierre came along. He wrestled Toya away from Wesley and told him to back off. They got into a fight. Wesley said Tierre pulled rank and told Toya that from now on, no one from the Fang Gang were to be harmed in any way. Toya had grumbled about having to follow the orders of an asshole, but he left Wesley alone. Then came the picture taking. Tierre gave Wesley the camera, but left it behind when he and Toya had to run away because some of Tierre’s personal bodyguards―or wardens. I mean, why would Tierre need bodyguards?―came after them. Apparently the two had skipped training so they can catch the concert.”

Buffy laughed, feeling warm all over, thinking about that side of Tierre. In the picture, he seemed so young and carefree, “How come there aren’t any other pics of Toya? I’d like to meet him. Or has he changed like Tierre?”

“Toya’s dead,” Angel said gravely. The Slayer stared at him.

“It was a mission gone wrong. I don’t know the specifics because Tierre never said anything.”

“He … came to you?”

“Yes. Here. I just found him in one of the rooms. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me. I didn’t want to push him and end up driving him away again. But when Fred went to bring him dinner, he was gone. If I’d known, I would’ve locked all the doors,” Angel said, “But locked doors wouldn’t have kept Ivo out, anyway. He was there, waiting for me when I went outside, ready to chase Tierre down.”

“Who’s Ivo?” Buffy’s head was swirling.

“The former head of Scarlet. At that time, Scarlet was one big unit. Not like now. They’ve been divided.”

“We know. Wait … why does that sound so familiar? Scarlet … Ivo … Ivo … Scarlet …” Buffy gasped with realization, “Ivo Scarletta! The would-have-been heir to Franco Scarletta’s multi-billion dollar empire? No … that’s not right!”

“Wait, you didn’t know who …?” Angel was confused. He thought they already knew about Tierre.

“It can’t be. Franco Scarletta is a philanthropist. He’s built public schools and hospitals and those free medical clinics in Africa. And he has charities all over the world! And … he’s not a bad guy!”

But even as she said it, Buffy can see that it made sense. Elsa had said that the owner of Scarlet was human. And rich. And immensely powerful in their world. The son of the Scarlet head was also supposed to have disappeared. So had Ivo, a kidnapping case two years old that was yet to be solved. The daughter who was murdered would be Maria Scarletta. It was another case that even with the Scarlettas’ wealth, remained unsolved. All the pieces fit. And hadn’t she learned by now that appearances were frequently deceiving?

“No, he doesn’t fit the profile, does he?” Angel said wryly, “Very few people know. He built Scarlet, Buffy. Money is the fuel to the Scarlet machine. Ivo used to be the driver. He was completely human, but he was brilliant. I guess intelligence is a prerequisite. If he wanted to, he could’ve killed me. As it was, he just warned me to stay away from Tierre. He was the one who told me that Toya was dead.”

“So … he told you to stay away and you did?”

“No. I didn’t want to give up. But don’t you see? It would’ve taken all of Wolfram and Hart to fight Scarlet. I can’t just rush headlong into war like that,” Angel sighed painfully, “I am fighting them, Buffy. I’m sorry that it’s taking so long.” He tapped the picture that was still in Buffy’s hands, “I want you to understand that the Tierre in that picture is gone. A lot of things conspired to destroy that boy. The man in his place is more dangerous than even Spike had ever been. Remember that.”

Buffy felt herself shaking as she stared down at Tierre’s smiling face. One moment of his happiness, frozen in time forever, “So … he’s not Spike,” she murmured, head bowed.

She didn’t see the emotions flicker across Angel’s face, “No, he’s not.”

If I have to lie to you to give you what you need …

Then I will.


~*~ *~ *~


“So, what’s the plan?” Faith asked. Everyone, Scoobies and Vashkans alike, were gathered in Angel’s brownstone.

“I … have an idea,” Angel looked warily at the Vashkans, “But it’s going to involve somebody else. I’m not sure if you’re going to approve of her.”

Rumus’ face was tight with barely restrained anger, “It doesn’t matter who she is. If she can help, bring her forward.”

Buffy whispered to Angel, “Who are you talking about? You never said anything.”

“She’s coming now.”

“Who?”

The doorbell rang. All eyes were on Wesley, who went to answer it. When he came back, he was with a woman. A tall, dark, and very beautiful woman.

“Oh, my God,” Xander swallowed.

Willow couldn’t believe her eyes, “No way,”

Giles removed his glasses and furiously rubbed at them.

“What the hell is going on?” Buffy exploded, startling everyone with her fury, “What is she doing here?”

The woman looked directly at Angel, “Maybe I should leave.”

“No,” Angel grabbed Buffy’s arm to keep her still, “I told you we need her help. We can’t get inside the Scarletta estate without her.” Then to the woman, he said, “Sorry for the outburst. So … how’ve you been, Drusilla?”


~*~ *~ *~


“We’re going to employ the help of a lunatic to go up against a madman?” Giles blurted out.

“Here, here,” Xander said, raising his hand as if giving a toast.

Selig looked at the humans, then at the vampires, “Lunatic? What do you mean by that?”

“That vampire is insane!” Willow told them emphatically.

“Total whacko!” Faith seconded, “Or … so I’ve heard.”

Buffy just stood with her arms crossed, silently fuming. The Slayer in her was just itching to grab something sharp and wooden and reduce Drusilla to a pile of dust.

Angel looked immensely embarrassed, while Wesley sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as though praying for deliverance. Only Drusilla herself seemed to find the humor in the situation. She gazed at each of them in turn, a mysterious Mona Lisa smile on her face.

And then Rumus suddenly said, “Are you lot blind? That woman is not insane.”

Seyhan stared at Dru, unabashedly studying her, “No. She’s just very amused.”

“You’re new around here,” Xander said with a know-it-all attitude, “Don’t let her beauty fool you. That woman hears voices and communicates with the stars and she plays with a little doll named Miss Edith!” he turned to Dru, determined to prove to everyone that she was looney tunes, “Go ahead, Dru. Why don’t you tell us what the stars are saying, huh?”

Drusilla closed her eyes briefly, and she started swaying to music only she can hear, before gliding forward towards the Vashkans, “Please allow me to introduce myself, I am a woman of wealth and taste. I’ve been around for long, long years, stolen many a man’s soul and faith,” she sang sweetly.

“See! See! I told you!” Xander crowed.

Faith suddenly burst out laughing, Angel grinned and Wesley clapped his hands. The brunette Slayer’s eyes were sparkling, “Guess we were wrong,” she said, still chuckling, “Nice choice, though. Classic intro.”

Drusilla smiled, “Thank you.”

Willow, Buffy and Xander chorused, “What’s going on?”

Giles cleared his throat, “Er … Drusilla just sang Sympathy for the Devil, by Mick Jagger. Only it was her very own version.”

They scowled at her. Dru said, “They certainly haven’t mastered the art of tact over the years, have they?”

“They don’t know what happened to you, Dru.” Angel said.

“What happened to her?” Willow asked.

“She has her soul and her sanity back,” Wesley replied, “Don’t ask how. She’ll never tell.”

Drusilla sighed, “I’ve always had my sanity, luv. But it’s only now that we understand each other,” she tucked her long, silken black hair behind her left ear, “You want to get near Scarlet without having your carotid arteries severed, eh? Then I suppose you should get your party dresses laid out.”

“Can you be more cryptic?” Buffy snapped sarcastically.

“Actually yes, I can be,” Drusilla smiled sweetly, all at once innocent and mischievous, “But first tell me, which is your priority? The Balancer, or the queen?”

“You told her everything?” Seyhan rounded on Angel.

“I told her what I knew. I only just found out that one of you was taken by Scarlet.”

“I had a feeling that’s what happened,” Dru said, “Didn’t they tell you? I’m clairvoyant.”

“A Seer,” Selig suddenly said, “No, The Seer. You’re that Drusilla?” at everyone’s curious looks, especially that of his brother, he explained, “I’ve heard of her, during my frustrating time searching for you when you fled to this world a lifetime ago.”

Seyhan smiled sheepishly, properly chastised.

“Well? Which one is it?” Drusilla repeated.

“We want them both back,” Rumus told her.

“They’re not going to be in one place together,” Faith said matter-of-factly, “They’re going to be held separately. It’s basic.”

Selig nodded, “So our next step would be to determine where Yesha is being held.”

“You’re right. We don’t know much about the Balancer, but with Yesha, we can use a locator spell,” Willow said, “I’ll go do it right now.”

“So … what’s with the party dress advice?” Xander asked.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s all over E! Franco Scarletta is hosting a party tonight,” Drusilla replied, “If you can get close enough to him, then you won’t be attacked. The safest place for you is right beside your enemy.”

“Guess that means we’re pretty safe right now,” Buffy said, looking at the vampiress meaningfully.

“Are you suggesting that we abduct Scarletta?” Wesley asked, “Because then that’s the only way that we can leave.”

Drusilla shrugged eloquently. Buffy threw up her hands in frustration. The vampiress smirked at her, “I told you I can be more cryptic.”

Seeing the murderous glint in Buffy’s eyes, Angel quickly said, “Dru, that’s enough. Why don’t you just tell us what we need to know? We don’t have a lot of time here.”

“What you do with Scarletta is up to you. I’m only here to tell you how you can get close to him,” Dru said, “This party will be held in Scarletta’s own home. The place is called Summer’s Cove. I’m sure Angel knows where it is.”

“Scarletta’s home? Doesn’t that mean that all of Scarlet will be there?” Xander pointed out.

“Yes, but this is a party for the people … for the media, really, “ Wesley said, “And since this is the first time Scarletta will be hosting one of these shindigs in Summer’s Cove, we can be certain no one will want to miss it.”

“And lots of honored guests and media people, meaning less playtime for Scarlet,” Buffy said, grinning, “I like that idea.”

“And what of the invitations?” Giles queried, “Somehow I get the feeling Scarletta has left us out of the guest list.”

“I can go in and out if I wish, as long as I’m only going up against their ordinary guards,” Drusilla said, “I’m not so certain if Scarlet members are susceptible to the thrall.”

Just then, Willow came back from doing her advanced locator spell. It was easy enough, because she looked for one of only four Vashkans in the human realm. And three of them were in New York, “Guys, I found Yesha,” she said eagerly, “You’re not gonna believe this, but she’s not in New York anymore.”

“She’s in Montana.”

TBC





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