Early May 2000

Writer: Sagremor

Jonathan	Anya	Buffy	Riley

Forrest	Willow	Xander

An authoritative rapping on the door woke Jonathan from a strange dream – he had been sitting in the middle of a dimly lit room while odd shapes moved in the deep shadows at the edges. He dragged himself out of bed and headed to the door. Before he opened it, he knew it was Anya; she had a distinctive knock. Plus she was the only person who ever visited him.

"Anya," he said sleepily as he peered through the crack of his door, "what do you want?"

"Do you have my books?"

"I haven’t had a chance to get them…"

"Have you tested your powers, at least?" she interrupted.

"No. I’ve been sleeping."

She was clearly upset. As she stormed off, Jonathan closed his door, then went back to bed.

Episode 3:
"Ninja"

"I ran into him yesterday, at the library. He-he called me Principal Snyder’s Gestapo agent," Willow complained to Buffy. They were waiting in the lounge of the student union – Xander was to join them but, as usual, he was late. "I didn’t work for Snyder."

"You did teach that computer class," Buffy replied, "so technically you worked for him. Under duress. But calling you a Nazi was a little harsh. You were more of a collaborator."

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed in a hurt voice.

"Just kidding," she said soothingly. "What was he doing in the library, anyway?"

"He said he wanted some books to help him practice for his Latin class," Willow continued. "But he was looking for something – he had a list…"

"Who’re we talking about," Xander interrupted as he sat down next to Willow and opposite Buffy.

"You’re late," Buffy said.

"We were discussing Jonathan Levinson. From high school," Willow answered glumly.

"Jonathan," Xander repeated distastefully. "That’s a name I wouldn’t mind hearing less of."

"I didn’t think you two knew each other," Buffy said.

"We don’t – I mean I know who he is, but I don’t really know him."

"Then why the extreme sulkiness when I said his name?" asked Willow.

"I think Anya’s been sneaking around with him."

"With Jonathan?" Buffy responded incredulously.

"He called my house a couple of days ago trying to get in touch with me," Xander explained. "I decided to see what he wanted, since I was on campus anyway to meet you guys. That’s why I’m late. I got to his dorm and I saw Anya – leaving someone’s room. Guess whose."

"I’m going to guess Jonathan’s," Buffy replied, "since our conversation seems to be Jonacentric today."

"It’s humiliating," Xander continued. "I mean Jonathan is so pathetic. I could understand if she were cheating with a ‘roid monkey fratboy beefcake like Riley."

"Or Forrest," Willow added.

"Forrest?" Buffy said skeptically as she exchanged glances with Xander. He just shrugged.

"Yeah," she said dreamily, "he’s all muscley like Riley and is a man of few words – which is sexy. And then there’s the cool job. Plus he’s sort of scary – he’s got that bad boy kind of thing going for him…"

"Will…" Buffy said, sitting up abruptly as she tried to interrupt Willow’s chatter.

"And a smoldering intensity," she continued obliviously, "like you’d never know if he was going to kiss you passionately or just pick you up and throw you on the table…"

"Riley!" Buffy shouted as she leapt from her seat and rushed forward, past Xander and Willow. Xander turned to look behind them, but Willow froze mid-babble, then stood up and turned around. Buffy was hugging Riley and behind them, with a faint smirk on his face, was Forrest.

"You’re affectionate today," Riley said to Buffy. "Not that I’m complaining." He turned to the others. "Hey Xander, Willow."

"I-I-I…" Willow stuttered, then turned and fled.

"Is something wrong with Willow?" Riley asked diplomatically, "We didn’t interrupt something, did we?"

"That depends," she responded. "How much did you hear?"

"About what?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing," Buffy replied, kissing him lightly, "just girl-talk. And Xander-talk, which is a lot like girl-talk."

"Hey!" Xander objected.

"We were on our way to have lunch and thought you and your friends might like to join us," Riley offered.

"Sure," Buffy said snuggling up a little closer to Riley.

"Count me out," Xander said. "I’m going home to listen to some country music."

"So it’ll just be the three of us," Riley said.

"Great," Forrest muttered.

It turned out to be harder to get into a fight than Jonathan had thought that it would be. When he intentionally bumped into people, they would curse at him, but nothing more. Even when he exchanged insults with them they wouldn’t hit him. When he refused to back down or be intimidated, they would walk away. For his own part, Jonathan was unwilling to throw the first punch as it might result in his expulsion, particularly considering his past problems with guns.

Finally, he gave up. He went to the Student Medical Services building to get a tetanus shot, then returned to the library to check out the books Anya had asked for.

It wasn’t until nightfall that Jonathan began to worry about the needle the doctor had used to give him his injection. His overactive imagination quickly supplied him with visions of demons armed with hypodermic needles in search of ironic mayhem. He waited until midnight for Anya to show up. When she didn’t, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He put on his black turtleneck and a pair of dark blue sweat pants.

When he got to the medical building, he realized that he had no idea how to go about breaking into the building. He walked around, looking wistfully at the windows and doors while he tried to recall exactly which room he had been treated in. He had just about decided to give up and hope that the needle would be destroyed, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Isn’t it past your bedtime?"

He jumped and turned to face the speaker – a young woman, slightly older than him, with dark hair and wearing jeans and a checkered "lumberjack" shirt. He’d never seen her before. She was about 20 feet away, but closed quickly, stepping into his personal space. He retreated instinctively.

"I love colleges," she said conversationally. "They’re full of people with no survival skills." Her face transformed, replacing her moderately attractive features with odd ridges and her even teeth with fangs. "Who won’t be missed," she finished with a growl as she lunged for him.

Jonathan felt paralyzed – Anya had told him about vampires, but, until now, he hadn’t really believed her. The vampire grabbed him – or tried to – his magically enhanced reflexes took over. He parried her arms and used her momentum to knock her into the wall behind him. She was back on her feet instantly, enraged, and lunged at him again – and, again, she ended up on the ground, never having touched her would-be victim. "I’m going to kill you slowly," she growled as she got back on her feet. She began to circle Jonathan warily, looking for an opportunity to strike. She lashed out with her fists, but Jonathan fended off her attacks effortlessly. She backed away.

And Jonathan advanced. He made the conscious decision to go on the offensive. Before she fully realized what was happening, Jonathan was hitting her – raining down blow after blow. A final kick knocked her out of Jonathan’s range. She struggled to her feet; her adversary wasn’t even winded. She ran.

Jonathan was elated. He gave chase. The vampire was a little faster, increasing the distance between them. It had nearly reached the corner of the building when it vanished in a cloud of dust.

And Buffy was standing in the vampire’s place, stake in hand.

"Nice moves," she said. "I didn’t know you were kung-fu guy." Her voice was casual, but she was watching him carefully, studying him.

"M-my parents made me take classes when I was younger," he said quickly. "They thought it would improve my self-esteem."

"Did it work?" she asked.

"No, the bigger kids in the class just beat me up while the instructor watched and gave them tips, so I dropped out. But this summer, I went back to self-defense class for a refresher course and to pick up a few new skills."

"You’re a fast learner," Buffy said evenly. She wasn’t buying it. "What’re you doing out so late – wearing that?"

"I wasn’t expecting to be accosted by the fashion police," he retorted. "But I could ask you the same thing – do you always lurk about the campus carrying pointed sticks? And what happened to that girl I was fighting?" Buffy looked uncomfortable.

"This isn’t about me," she said defensively as she put the stake into her purse. "Are you going to answer my questions?"

"No," he said with what he hoped was a defiant voice. He turned and walked away.

Buffy caught up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. Jonathan knocked her hand away and spun around, knocking the Slayer off her feet with the sweep of his leg.

She lay there, stunned.

Jonathan ran.

Jonathan had almost reached his dorm when a figure, roughly his own size, stepped out of the shadows to block his passage. Its features were indistinct, shrouded in darkness deeper than the surrounding shadows. Jonathan stopped, debating whether to speak to the creature, fight it or run from it. The creature attacked him.

Jonathan couldn’t believe how fast it was. His own arms and legs moved more rapidly than he thought possible as he blocked every attack it threw at him. He decided to run.

A mistake. The instant his attention deviated, he ended up on the ground as he was knocked back into a planter along the wall of the dorm. He barely had time to roll out of the way to avoid a flying kick from his enemy – the force of the blow cracked the stonework. Jonathan was immediately back on his feet to face the creature. This time he decided to go on the offense, as he had with the vampire. The creature blocked his every attack effortlessly – but at least it wasn’t able to defend and attack at the same time. A stalemate – they were too evenly matched.

Or not quite even. Jonathan was already feeling tired and began to worry about how long he could maintain the battle before exhaustion took over and gave his supernatural opponent the edge. The creature backed away, slowly giving ground. Jonathan followed, redoubling his attacks. It stepped into the shadow of the building…

…and was gone.

Back in his room, Jonathan paced nervously. Clearly he had faced the nemesis; just as clearly, he had no idea of how to defeat it. He waited, hoping Anya would show up. In the interim, he turned on all his lights and rearranged his furniture so the shadows cast would be as small as possible. He remained is the most well lit area of the room. Then he noticed his own shadow was missing. He called a taxi and gathered up Anya’s books.

The cab driver refused to enter Anya’s neighborhood, so Jonathan ended up walking the last five blocks to her house. The area was devoid of traffic so he walked down the center of the street, as far away from the shadowy sidewalks as he could be. A momentary fear gripped him as he approached the door – what if she wasn’t home?

But his fears proved to be unfounded. She answered his timid knocks immediately.

"What do you want?"

"I-I brought you your books."

"Oh. Thanks," she said as she accepted the books. She was dressed for bed – wearing a nightgown surprisingly similar to the ones that Jonathan’s grandmother used to wear. "I could have picked them up tomorrow," she continued as she began to close the door.

"Wait!" Jonathan exclaimed frantically. "I need to talk to you." She let the door swing open and waited for him to enter.

Anya listened impatiently as Jonathan told her of his failed attempt to recover the hypodermic needle, his encounter with both Buffy and the shadowy creature, and the loss of his shadow.

"How do we kill it?" he asked at last.

"We can’t," she stated. "Well, we can, but if we do kill it, it’ll break the spell and you’ll lose your ability to fight. What are you worried about – it can’t hurt you, you’re invulnerable. And don’t worry about your shadow, it doesn’t mean anything – just an attempt by the supernatural agencies to spook you. It’s the sort of thing that would have gotten you burned at the stake during the dark ages – but these days no one will notice."

"So I should just put up with random ambushes by this thing? You don’t think someone will notice that?"

"It stuck to the shadows. Stay in the light and you might be okay. We may be able to bind it," she said thoughtfully, "but I’ll need the Arcanum d’Anquentil – it’s one of the restricted books. Is there any chance your Latin professor can get it for you?"

"I can ask her," he said doubtfully.

"And try to avoid Buffy."

"What about the needle?"

"Can’t you just ask them for it?"

"People don’t just give away used hypodermic needles," he said with exasperation.

"Why not?" Anya asked. "They couldn’t possibly want to keep them."

"I think it’s illegal. Are you going to help me get it or not?"

"I’m not walking across Sunnydale in the middle of the night. Anyway, it’s not my problem."

At four AM, Jonathan found himself outside the medical building for the second time that night. He had a flashlight with him this time; he’d stopped at a convenience store to pick one up. He kicked the side door – it crashed open easily. He rushed to the examination room and checked the garbage can – the needle was there, but so were several other needles – he couldn't tell which was his. He grabbed the plastic garbage bag and ran.

Back in his room, he hid the hypodermic needles, six of them, under his bed. He changed into his normal attire and shoved the dark clothing into the trash bag with the remaining medical waste, then threw the bag into the dorm trash chute. He stayed awake until well after dawn, then finally went to sleep, grateful that it was Saturday and he wouldn’t have to skip any more classes. As he drifted off, he made a mental note to buy some extra lamps for his room. Six or seven…

Next Episode: Suspicions

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