Early July 2000

Writer: Sagremor

Jonathan	Anya	Buffy	Willow

Riley	Forrest

Jonathan nervously gripped the pommel of the ancient sword in his right hand and the stake in his left as he watched Buffy slip through the wavering shadows at the edge of the cave. The four vampires were so intent on tormenting their prey, that they did not notice the lithe slayer silently circumnavigating their lair. Nor did they notice Jonathan lurking uneasily in the passage – guarding their only potential escape route.

A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him about, breaking his reverie. He stood face to face with a vampire – momentarily – the sword flicked out, almost of its own accord, a left a crimson line in the vampire’s neck. The blade had sunk in several inches and only the vampire’s unnaturally quick reflexes had saved it from complete decapitation. It stepped back, struggling to speak, one hand clamped across its neck trying to stem the blood flow, the other vainly attempt to ward off his assailant. Jonathan advanced. He feinted with the sword, then plunged the stake into his foe. There was a burst of dust followed by utter silence – the slaying had attracted the attention of the other vampires…

Jonathan turned slowly, as if in a dream, as he tried to remember how he had gotten into this predicament – and things had been going so well lately.

Episode 6:
"Pentagrams and Miranda Warnings"

"Jonathan," Buffy said uncertainly. He was eating lunch opposite a beautiful brunette. She glanced up at the sound of Buffy’s voice, clearly embarrassed, then turned back to Jonathan.

"I-I should be going," she said hesitantly.

"Okay," he replied cheerfully. "I’ll save you a seat in our Latin class this afternoon and we continue our talk."

"Oh… sure," she said, "Umm… bye, Jonathan, and…umm…"

"Buffy," Jonathan supplied.

"Buffy," she finished. She fled the table, flushed and visibly uneasy.

"What was that about?" Buffy demanded.

"What was what about?" he asked innocently.

"You and that girl."

"Just a lunch date. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept – unless Slayers have to take a vow of celibacy…"

"Keep your voice down! Slaying is supposed to be a secret." she whispered sharply. "And yes I know what a date is, I was just wondering why you were with her."

"What are you suggesting? That I can’t get a date?"

"Not with her. Unless you’ve been telling girls about your powers to impress them," Buffy replied tersely.

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I was helping her with her homework," Jonathan said quickly.

"That makes more sense."

"Did you want something or did you just stop by to insult me?"

"I didn’t mean it like that," Buffy replied apologetically. "I’m here on business. I’m going on patrol in Sunnydale tonight, away from the campus," Buffy continued quietly. "There were way too many vamps in Willy’s last night. I want to check things out back by the Bronze – that used to be their favorite haunt."

"I’m busy tonight," Jonathan replied. "I could go tomorrow."

"You’re busy? Doing what?"

"I do have a life outside of hunting monsters," he replied angrily.

"Sorry, I guess I never thought of you as being social or anything…" she trailed off as she realized she had insulted Jonathan once more.

"Is rudeness a side-effect of demon vomit?" he retorted, glowering at her. As he reminded himself of the previous night’s adventures, he glanced at her arms – not a trace of the blisters remained. "You really do heal fast," he said appreciatively, forgetting his wounded pride.

"Yeah," she said, "It was a little red this morning, and it still itches a bit, but you can’t tell which arm got burned." She held out her arms side by side for a comparison. "Cuts take a little longer, but bruises go away in minutes."

"Very cool."

"So no go tonight?"

"Do recon tonight," he told her. "We’ll go out tomorrow night together."

"Sounds like a plan. Gotta go – I need pizza."

"I need more firepower," Jonathan told Anya. It was nearly midnight when he reached her apartment. "I was attacked three times on the way over here by that shadow demon. I had to run from streetlight to streetlight."

"Use a weapon."

"I don’t have a weapon," he replied impatiently. "Isn’t there a ritual…"

"I’ve been busy working on the binding," she interrupted. "And I think I found one that will work."

Jonathan stopped as the words sunk in. He looked around – candles, mostly unlit, filled the room. They formed concentric circles surrounding an intricate chalk design in the center of the room. Anya spoke a few words in Latin and, instantly, every candle was lit and burning more brightly than he would have thought likely "Take off your shirt," she commanded.

The actual ritual only took a few minutes. The preparation, however, was quite involved. Anya covered most of Jonathan’s body with odd runes make from an oily black substance. She even had him remove his pants at one point so she could place a few marks on his legs. Finally, she began an invocation, summoning the shadow demon. The demon attacked her, but in the brilliant light, its blows had no substance, passing through Anya as if she were a ghost. As Anya finished the spell, an inaudible shriek penetrated their minds – one final soundless howl of fury from the defeated demon and a flash of light as the candles flared to a painful level of brightness – then the room went black.

Anya struck a match and lit the candle nearest her. Most of the candles had consumed themselves, leaving little more than small pools of wax slowly congealing on the floor.

"Did it work?" Asked Jonathan. He was still sitting in the center of the magic circle, clothed only in his boxers.

Anya peered at him, bringing the candle near him, then smiled and replied, "Of course."

"Where did it go?"

Anya began re-lighting the remaining candles. "We did a binding – it’s bound. As long as you are alive, it can’t hurt you. And if you die," she continued philosophically, "it won’t matter."

"But where is it bound? And what do you mean we? Why did I have to even be here? I didn’t do anything but watch."

Anya turned to face him. "I bound it to you," she said calmly.

Jonathan was too angry to speak – he sputtered incoherently as he tried to convey the level of his unhappiness with Anya’s reply.

"Most of the rituals require components that are ridiculously expensive or impossible to find," she said placidly. "It was the only ritual that I could afford – I don’t have much money – and I almost lost my job yesterday thanks to you and Buffy."

"You should’ve told me!" he exclaimed angrily as he began dressing.

"You didn’t ask."

"Is there anything else I should know about?"

"You should have your shadow back."

Jonathan finished dressing in sullen silence. He glanced at the markings on his arms. "Is this stuff going to come off?" he asked. "I look like a tattooed freak!"

"Maybe," she replied, "probably depends on the level of your personal hygiene."

He turned in disgust, ready to storm out of the apartment.

"Want to borrow my sword?" Anya called out, stopping him in his tracks.

As Jonathan walked back toward the campus, he had to admit he had liked the way Anya’s sword had felt in his had. It was perfectly balanced and had a double-edged, razor sharp blade. Greek symbols were etched in the blade. The sword had been a gift from a particularly grateful devotee of the vengeance demon. Anya didn’t go into detail about what service she had performed for her 15^th century disciple, but Jonathan hadn’t asked many questions, either. He carried it gingerly under his arm in its inlaid ebony case – Anya had been very specific about wanting it back, undamaged.

He stopped at a convenience store to pick up some Lava soap. At two o’clock in the morning, he wasn’t too worried about being seen in public with arcane symbols painted on his forehead. He did get a strange look from the clerk, a young girl with a pierced lip, and long black hair, but he just smiled at her and told her he’d been summoning demons, then paid for the soap and left. She hadn’t responded.

Forty-five minutes in the shower had faded the writing, but left Jonathan’s skin red and tender. Looking closely in the mirror, he could still make out the outlines. Something moved behind him – he saw it in the mirror. He spun around – nothing. He turned back slowly and looked back into the mirror, trying to be casual, but focusing on his peripheral vision. For a few minutes – which seemed like hours – nothing happened. Then he saw it – the sudden erratic motion… of his own shadow.

Back in his room, Jonathan verified the experience. Periodically, his shadow would contort suddenly and in strange directions. Only a second or two each time, but unsettling, nonetheless. "There’s always something," he grumbled to himself. He decided to continue sleeping with his lights on.

Buffy caught up to Riley and Forrest as they neared the student union. After a brief public display of affection between Buffy and Riley, Buffy turned her attention to Riley’s friend. "Hey, Forrest," she said cheerfully.

"Buffy," he replied evenly. "Where’s Willow?" he asked a bit too casually. "I’m not used to seeing you two apart."

"I thought she was with you," Buffy retorted sweetly. "You two have been inseparable lately…"

"Don’t worry, Buffy," Riley interrupted, anxious to avoid another sparring match between his girlfriend and best friend. "Willow’s not exactly Forrest’s type."

"You know me better than that, my friend," Forrest told Riley, clapping his hand on Riley’s back for emphasis. "Breathing is my type."

Buffy frowned before continuing. "Your out of luck tonight," she began conversationally. "It’s her Wicca night."

"Wicca?" Forrest asked, suddenly very interested in the conversation. Riley shot a warning glance in her direction, but she ignored him.

"The campus Wicca group," Buffy explained. "Willow’s very into it. Comes back chattering about potions and spells…"

"That group is a joke," Riley objected. "We’ve checked them out."

"That’s what Willow thought at first, too," Buffy continued – ostensibly for Riley’s benefit. "But she met some girls there who seem to be the genuine article. It’s the meetings after the ‘official’ meeting that are important – that’s when the real Wiccans gather. She wanted me to go with her, but I get enough of the supernatural during working hours – I don’t need it for a hobby, too."

"You don’t really believe in all this stuff, do you?" Forrest asked.

"In demons? You work for the Initiative and you have to ask?"

"They’re just animals."

"And vampires?"

"A blood disease."

"Crosses, holy water…"

"Professor Walsh thought that the effectiveness of religious relics was the product of superstition and suggestion," Riley remarked. "Vampires believe they can be harmed by them, so they are harmed."

"So if you tell a vampire a bottle of water has been blessed, it’ll burn them?"

"Makes more sense than saying a priest can turn tap water into an acid that only burns the undead," Forrest said bluntly.

"Has the initiative tested this theory?"

"If we had," Forrest said angrily, glancing disapprovingly at his friend, "it would be classified information."

"What about mirrors?" Buffy challenged. "Explain that, Mr. Wizard." Riley and Forrest were both silent.

"What do you want for lunch?" Riley asked.

"Pizza," Buffy replied.

"Count me out – your girlfriend’s taste in food is as strange as your taste in women," Forrest said to Riley. He turned away and stalked off sullenly.

Riley set down a piece of pizza and looked across the table at Buffy. "Buffy," he began cautiously, "why do you hate Forrest?"

"I don’t hate him," she objected.

"You don’t?" he repeated in a tone that suggested skepticism of the highest degree.

"No," she protested.

"Then why are you always fighting?"

"I don’t know," she replied, "he just always manages to say – not really say, but imply with his tone of voice and body language – that I’m not good enough for you, or that I’m corrupting you, or-or having a bad influence on you."

"He’d say the same things about you."

"I like Forrest, really," she said unconvincingly.

"You shouldn’t have told him about Willow’s Wiccan activities," he said shaking his head slowly.

"Why?"

Riley hesitated. Buffy suddenly became very alert – Riley had an Initiative secret to tell her – he always got like this when he thought he was betraying a confidence. "Is the Initiative investigating Willow?" she asked.

"A very rare book has disappeared," he confessed reluctantly, "Willow is our number one suspect."

Buffy and Jonathan met that night and journeyed to the Bronze, as planned. Although the weather was warm, Jonathan had insisted on wearing a trench coat. Buffy had noted the faint markings on his hands and face immediately, but he had told her that he had fallen asleep in the common room and some fraternity boys had marked their symbols all over his exposed body with an indelible marker, as a joke. Buffy accepted the story, improbable though it was, as it seemed the sort of thing that might happen to Jonathan.

They were not at the Bronze long when Buffy grabbed Jonathan and pulled him after her. "Those two are vampires," she whispered, pointing to three figures, two adult males and one teen-aged girl – heading to the back door and the alley. "I heard them talking to that girl. She was asking about a friend – they told her they knew where she was." Buffy and Jonathan followed the trio into the alley at a discreet distance. Their quarry stopped at a manhole cover and an animated conversation ensued – the men trying to convince the girl that there was an underground party, accessible only through the storm sewers.

"Should we save her now?" Jonathan whispered.

"They might really have taken the other girl," Buffy replied quietly. "Let’s wait, see where they take her. If the other girl’s alive we should try to help her, too."

They had not long to wait. The vampires easily uncovered the entrance. The first one hopped down, the second handed the girl down to him, then followed. Buffy and Jonathan trailed them through the sewers and into the rough tunnels of a natural cavern. The vampires had not lied – the other girl was inside a large cave and a party atmosphere prevailed among the attendant vampires – six, in all, counting the two most recent arrivals. The first girl was alive, but had numerable cuts and bites where she had been bled. The new girl became hysterical, but was quickly silenced by the vampires with fierce blows. She attempted to run for the exit, but the vampires only pretended to allow her the possibility of escape, then dragged her back to the center of the room.

Jonathan took out his sword as Buffy offered him a stake.

"Where’d you get that?"

"I thought I might need it," he replied. He accepted the stake and hefted it in his left hand.

"Here’s the plan – you stay here…"

"I like this plan already."

"Kill any that try to escape. Don’t move – I want to be closer so they can’t kill the girls out of spite."

Jonathan turned back to face the room after killing the intruding vampire. All of the vampires were focused on him – the girls were forgotten. Jonathan stepped forward as the adrenaline washed through his system. Almost as one, six vampires surged toward him – suddenly reduced to five as Buffy’s reappearance corresponded to the disappearance of one of their number. Jonathan’s enhanced reflexes took over as the vampires grew near. His sword flashed out, neatly decapitating the quickest vampire; his stake impaled the second, but a third crashed into him, knocking him to the side, away from the exit. He was dimly aware of the Slayer, grabbing a female vampire’s long, blond hair and pulling her back into her waiting stake. The last vampires began to flee, but Jonathan’s sword flashed out, slicing through the ankle of the vampire that had knocked him down. He leaped to his feet to finish the crippled creature, but Buffy had already staked him.

"Let the last one go," Buffy cautioned. It had a considerable lead on them. "We need to get the girls to safety."

The first girl was in a state of shock. The blood loss and horror left her momentarily bereft of speech – her friend’s nervous non-stop stream of babble made up for it. She clung to Jonathan as he untied her and helped her to her feet and continued to hold on to him as they navigated their way back through the tunnels – lit only by a penlight on Jonathan’s key chain. They had followed the vampires’ light coming in, but the flashlights had vanished with them. Buffy, leading the way, had to pause periodically to try to maintain her sense of direction. On one such stop, she hushed both the talkative girl and Jonathan. "We’re being followed," she whispered, "The vamp that got away may have brought help. I can hear them." The second girl began to whimper at the news. "Don’t worry," Buffy said reassuringly, "We’ll get you out of here."

They continued on at an increased pace, and the footsteps behind them became more pronounced. Finally, the rough walls of the caverns gave way to the finished stonework of Sunnydale’s extensive storm sewers. A few more turnings down the passage led them to a room whose only other exit was a ladder.

"Up," Buffy commanded, "I’ll hold them off."

"Where does it lead?" Jonathan asked.

"Doesn’t matter, anyplace is better than here," the slayer growled. "Go!"

Jonathan pulled the quiet girl up the ladder with him, half carrying her as she sobbed silently and clung to him. Her friend, quiet now herself, followed quickly behind. Below them, in the darkness, Jonathan heard the sounds of fighting.

Jonathan pushed the trap door above him open and light flooded in, temporarily blinding him. He leapt out and pulled the girls up after him. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the brilliant light, he looked around him. Torches burned brightly in every corner of the all too familiar room. Every demonic or semi-demonic visage in Willy’s bar had turned to examine the intruders. Jonathan slowly got to his feet – the girls both clung to him in fear. Buffy emerged an instant later and dropped the trap door back into place before she, too, became aware of her surroundings.

"Torch night," she muttered quietly. "Walk slowly to the door," she instructed Jonathan.

They were halfway there when the vampires began pouring out of the sewers. Instantly, Buffy armed herself with torches, snatching them from unsuspecting patrons. The vampires stopped and began to warily spread out, encircling the Slayer and her companions.

"I don’t want no trouble!" Willy yelled. "Take it outside!"

Buffy and Jonathan did as instructed – they walked backwards to the door, keeping their weapons in front and shielding the girls. The vampires followed for awhile, but stopped as they neared the door: none wished to be the first to leave the relative sanctuary of the bar.

Outside, when they heard the sounds of the bar return to normal, Buffy and Jonathan relaxed. The crisis was over. They first exchanged relieved glances, then sly smiles. "How about we walk you home?" Buffy suggested to the girls. They gladly accepted the offer. On the walk back, Buffy instructed the girls on what to tell their parents and the police – gang members, not vampires, had attacked them. Jonathan reinforced these points directly to each girl just before leaving them at the gate of the quiet girl’s house. After final heartfelt thanks, the girls walked away, whispering to each other. Buffy and Jonathan watched the girls enter the house before leaving.

They walked without speaking for a time, each quietly introspective. Jonathan finally broke the silence by saying, "That was amazing!"

Buffy looked at him quizzically, but said nothing.

"Saving those girls!" he continued excitedly. "I never felt such a rush of energy before! Now I see why you do this."

"That is the cool part of this job," Buffy assented. "It’s not so much fun when they end up dead, tortured or mutilated because you weren’t there in time," she continued somberly.

Back at the campus, they stopped to split a small pizza, then went their separate ways.

Willow was lying on her bead, crying. The room was in great disarray – clothes, books and keepsakes were scattered everywhere. Buffy rushed to her friend’s side to see what had happened. It took Willow a few attempts to get out sentences that were coherent, but eventually, she sufficiently regained her composure to begin her narration.

"Forrest went to the meeting with me, just like we planned. They didn’t want to let him in ‘cause he’s a guy, but he suggested that they were discriminating against him because he’s an African American and then they suddenly all were like ‘Forrest, please stay,’ or ‘Sit next to us, Forrest.’ Anyway, he got to stay and the other girls were saying stuff about the moon and what types of incense cleanse the aura and stuff like that – I could tell he hated it, he even asked some questions that sounded like he cared but were really sarcastic. It seems like he not a very nice person on the surface, that he doesn’t care about others, but deep down, I think he really isn’t very nice. Everything was going perfectly, even after the meeting when he asked me if he could meet the ‘cool people’ personally and I introduced him to the biggest, self-involved, charlatans in the group. He was totally convinced that the Wiccans were just a bunch of spoiled little upper middle class girls playing at being witches," Willow paused to start crying again and catch her breath.

"Sounds perfect, Will," Buffy prompted as she sat down crosslegged on the bed beside her friend. "Doesn’t explain the mess or why you’re crying."

"I-I brought Forrest back here – he offered to walk me home – and I thought to put the final touches on the plan I’d get out the Ouija board…" she broke off again before continuing. "So I got him to play with me, even though he was like ‘You don’t really believe in this, do you?’ and ‘do you have a magic 8-ball, too?’ so we lowered the lights and lit aromatic candles – the ‘aura cleansing’ ones and started to ask questions…" she trailed off again.

Buffy began to feel a creeping sensation begin in her limbs. "What questions?" she asked softly.

"F-first I asked if you and Riley would get married, and pushed the marker to yes, although Forrest tried to move it to no. Then I asked if Forrest would get married and this time he made sure it went to no. Then I told him to ask a question and he asked ‘How many witches are in this room?’ – I tried to move it to zero while he was moving it to one, but something happened." More sobs brought an end to the narrative.

"What?"

"The candles burned brighter, the board cracked, a jolt of electricity went through us and we both let go of the marker. It moved to three by itself, then shattered, stuff flew around the room and the candles went out. Next thing I know, Forrest has turned on the lights and is reading me my rights! Arresting me in the name of the US military and the Initiative. He called his people in and they searched our room, confiscated some of my stuff, then told me I was under house arrest, that I can’t leave town without their permission but that, pending further investigation, I wouldn’t be incarcerated just yet – Forrest was angry about that, he wanted me locked up, I could tell."

"Why would there be three witches? Unless Forrest is a witch…" Buffy asked.

"Wouldn’t that make him a warlock?" At the sound of Riley’s voice, Willow and Buffy both jumped and turned to face the doorway. He stood there, with a faint expression of exasperation.

"W-warlock is just a Hollywood term," Willow replied. "Male witches are still witches."

"How long have you been standing there?" Buffy asked.

"Since the part about the jolt of electricity," he responded. "I heard about this raid, but couldn’t get here sooner without arousing suspicion. The only reason you’re not in an Initiative cell right now," he said to Willow, "is because things have been a bit chaotic since Professor Walsh died. The bureaucrats have stepped in and everyone’s afraid to make decisions." Willow blanched at Riley’s matter-of-fact statement. "Even then, had they found the missing book you’d be on your way to the Nevada facility."

"What book?" Willow asked plaintively.

"Forrest isn’t a witch," Riley said flatly, changing the subject. "Even if he were a witch, that would only make two."

Buffy and Willow exchanged glances. "Actually, there are already two, if you count Amy," Buffy said carefully.

"Who’s Amy?"

"The rat."

"Willow’s rat is a witch? That’s what you’re telling me?"

"She wasn’t always a rat," Willow said quietly.

"She changed herself into a rat to escape being burnt at the stake – or maybe her spell just misfired ‘cause she was tied up," Buffy added. "I had the impression at the time that she wanted to cast a spell on our – her – attackers."

"I haven’t been able to change her back," Willow said.

Riley didn’t know what to say. The girls seemed to be in earnest, yet he could not accept that a rodent had once been a girl. Finally he shook his head and said, "I warned you this could happen. Why weren’t you more careful?"

"We thought we were being careful," Buffy protested.

"How? By inviting Forrest to play with the occult?" he asked. He continued without waiting for a reply, "I have to go back to the base. I’ll see you tomorrow, Buffy?"

"Sure," Buffy hopped up from where she was sitting and exchanged whispers and caresses before Riley left. The door closed and Riley’s footsteps faded away.

"Who do you think the third witch was?" Buffy asked Willow.

"I disembodied spirit of some kind – astral projection maybe, or a ghost. We might have allowed it access to the real world by playing with the Ouija board. I made up some invocations to the spirit world before we started, real melodramatic, to try to set the mood. The spirits might have taken them seriously."

"If we can find the missing book, it might help clear you," Buffy said thoughtfully.

"What book?"

Next Time: Quid Pro Quo

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